Jeff Hardy - Intellectual

[Verse I]

Really on a dash how he came up out of last

It's funny he gettin’ money he was bottom of the class

If I say to breathe fire they'll be swallowin' the gas

And they ’prolly wouldn't stop until the bottom of their glass

She show me that she bad, im'a slap her on the ass

Take her home, and tell her to hail a cab on the ave

Everybody trash so I laugh when I pass

They think that im goin' mad, their just not about their cash

Flash Cs on her bag, flash Gs on her belt

Flash Bs with her fingers, you would get it if you're real

Give em somethin' to feel or somethin' to understand

Everybody got a method, I did it without a plan

Im stack it to the ceiling, we breakin' rubber bands

Down shorty got an ass so fat that I don’t know how she dance

Damn, i’m on the road with a band

And a bucket of cocaine, so i'm usually slammed

Shit, I do what I can, jamin’ in the crowd with some fans

Or out with the crew in a lamb, sluts two to a man

Getting crazier than they should but badder here than the lands

And if the Ruge ain't in my hand, still got it tucked in my pants

Fuck you in advance, I don't see nothin' outside the score

Try to climb in my mind, you’d be terrified out of yours

Defile with no remorse, their claimin' they want a war

But underneath it their too bitch to step out on their fuckin' porch

Like livin for yous a chore

You swore on all your everything everyday how the fuck'd you turn off course?

I took it with brute force, and only me to endorse it

Came in and we motherfuckin torched it

[Hook]

I get it at all costs since back when it popped off

Its the Swanton Bomb, i'm droppin' off five floors

You ain't ever been raw, you never been top dog

If you got to where i'm at then you'd 'prolly get knocked off

('prolly get knocked off)

[Verse II]

You never doin' shit that you could

Though honestly i'm never really doin' shit that I should

But you and I can't be compared, don't get it misunderstood

If you don't believe me, its easy, we'll leave it up to the hood

New York City, whats good?

Shouts to North Manhattan and Brooklyn and The Bronx

And to Queens and Staten

My soldiers whats happenin'

My killers keep clappin

My hustlers stay stackin'

Take it to the bank laughin

I make my money and pass it to get more money the fastest

And im'a never retire, i'll die before doin' that shit

I'll die before ever crashin', some people tell me thats bat shit

Theres a lotta shit to call it, I choose to call it a passion

Dont know how to be relaxin

I keep it out of mind

'Specially since times paper, theres presidents on the line

Just peep me through the vapors, i'm livin' in so divine

Grind 23 and 1 but I love it where I reside

Risin' and then I ride and shinin' the way I fly

Y'all are a dozen a dime, a hundred million of a kind