[Verse 1: Torae]

Want to hear my old shit, buy my old album

If you really love it, why I only sold thousands?

By the grace of God, I made it out of housing

But I’m still Coney Isl styling

Wild as a stallion and cocky, had to go Rambo to get my wrists rocky

Cheddar drenched broccoli

That's what's on my pallet in my wallet

Wardrobe was war mode then I got a stylist

Now you want to smile, miss? Miss me

On the Hardwood where the Knicks be, flick it up, Melo drop 60

Shifty, low down gritty and

I’m just doing this ‘til my city is the shit again

Dropped Barrel Brothers, it was notable

“Make You A Believer”, my verse ain’t get a quotable, so fuck it, I’m over you

No fuck it, I’m overdue, none of y’all better

Bar for bar, Line for line, to the letter

I came from EBT, made it on to BET

FUSE, MTV, MP3

Vinyl and CD, all off the P-E-N

Now it's 6 days on SXM

And I’m just getting started, you could hit the target

Or fill out applications for Target

You on one, I’m off it, probably want to forfeit

How you ‘pposed to score vs Tor and not want shit?

Aw shit, I’m still beasting the bars, flow shit Malik and Jamal

Still bodying every beat that I’m on

Any street that I’m on, I’m a sight still

Shine like a million dollar light bill

Even Bun B know I’m type trill, type ill, might steal your misses

Treat it like a four-course meal and do the dishes

Scratch off my wish list, add to my “fuck it” list

Name an MC that can fuck with this

Probably had to add to your bucket list, bucket this, blam

That’s the only way you could body me, fam

Pardon me, damn, I got to go

Brought in Tigallo to clap shit up some more

[Verse 2: Phonte]

Me and my man’s on a war tour

But the crowd screaming for more Tor

And Tigallo on the assist, he’s the orator

You can count on just like a scoreboard

But what the fuck you keeping score for

When the L is imminent

Scrimmaging against you effeminate niggas in boy shorts

Kitten heel raps scratching up the floor boards

In a top hat, you rap niggas is Boy George

I attack tracks with more force

And more anger than a gangster in a Russian divorce court

Mad ‘cause his wife is going after his stored Porsche

So she can make some more [borscht]

Then he really want to call her a bi-, but if you call her a bi-

The judge gon’ tell him to ease up, poor sport

Respect my mind

I testify, but on the track

Your favorite rapper will get left behind

Like he got an F in a core course

Not here to lollygag, I specialize in bodybags

And if we in the streets, motherfuck an autograph

The only signature that I need is 4 4

So I can run amok, I just lay low in the buck, I

Don’t really claim to be a tough guy but never been the shook type

Last name, Look Like, first name, Fuck I

Raised in the Marley Marl era, so you better call Saul

And tell Saul to call pallbearers

Just a little Tigallo will make it all better

So fuck the radio stations and all the call letters

Cause my rhymes commodities go off like IED’s

Lines go over your head and stay there like the sword of Damocles

Peace to Skyzoo, Oddisee

And plus the old school, the Hercs, the Bams, and the Toddy Tees

When I become a legend, just acknowledge me fam

Pardon me, damn, I got to go

Y’all clap shit up, I give it a standing O