Nobody fuckin with my paper

Fuck school ima a rap major

Mad flavor, up on the track

Cuz when the boy hit the top they never sending him back

They never sending him back

Drop 90 dollars getchya 7 grams

Bag as they need. 140. Ina rubber band. Runnin the streets

Repeat 4 times. 340

Up In ya wallet

Throw 300s on it

The 28 that ya wanted

An'an Again with the dubs

240 profit is plenty

That's 2 studio hours and a flight to Miami

To see my girl again

Know the consumers ain't ya friends

Keep one eye on the crap

Pussy fuckers'll stab you right in the back

To jack. Ya whole stack

I know that it's wack

They tried to lock me up twice but I'm never goin back

Used to be. The lord of the streets

Now ima lord a the beats

Still in the game now

The shits important to me

They move accordin to me

Old homies that still respect

Manic he up and comin

The checks come next

Now bitches runnin

Im on some real knot coppin shit

Free spliff

Exchange under the bridge and than we dip

Ima free kid

Dabble in drugs, money, and drug money

Think that ya funny ya

If yatryna jack the paper you dummy

Think they can run me

They play me on a da.ily

Basis

I'm lookin for a rap oasis

When snitches ain't. Takin every payment

When we stackin bricks in the basement

The same shit

The whole time

Till the name Manic is famous

What am I. (Well)

Ya getting warmer

The dude who dishin baggies on the corner

The mad writer. The dope performer

The former

Employer

Of dufflebag boys

Now the ill rhyme deployer

[Hook]

Nobody fuckin with my paper

Fuck school ima a rap major

Mad flavor, up on the track

Cuz when the boy hit the top they never sending him back

Asa matter of fact

[Hook]

Nobody fuckin with my paper

Fuck school ima a rap major

Mad flavor, up on the track

Cuz when the boy hit the top they never sending him back

It's simple as that