What's up my niggas, yeah we on it

Big clouds of smoke of that chronic

Sounds bang bionic

Murder the bass line but I love it

How ironic, the world changed on me

Baggy jeans became tight and saggy

Maggie popping that molly, nah son I smoke blunts

Pop shrooms, put that girl on the table, celebrate with the crew

This that trill shit, not that type of beat where the high hat kills it

There's a difference, New York I live it

Any thing else is what I call considered different

Plex handle was BI, let me flight high in the sky

Like an eagle, eyes on the prize so fuck your ego

I mean these little kids grabbing the mic

I don't even know what they saying

I just don't listen so fuck it

I'm not here to battle rap these niggas

So fuck them, but I'm not here starving either

Ether is what they claim to spit, so then spit

Cuz your cars and jewels don't mean shit

Peep the game out, get signed to a label then take three years to push an album out

That shit don't work for me

Like how Mr. C is getting head from a tranny

Man what's going on these days

Is it worth it to bring the mic towards your face

Yeah son we keep it moving

Facebook it, hashtag that shit

You still doing it bitch