By The Way lyrics

[Verse 1: Sean Price]
Gotta be P hating
The fist to your face Clay, Muhammad Ali shaking
Fist full of chips grated, gotta be P caking
Whimp you with Jim faking, gotta be P aping
I sell white rock, and clap canons
I'm old school like white rock soda and backgammon
Rap phantom, Sean is a starving artist
I gain a lot of weight cause a n*gga eating regardless
You a target, and talk about bullseye
You a Target employee, a good guy
And ain't nothing wrong with that, n*gga
Ain't nothing wrong with this
I make something strong with rap, n*gga
And guess what, the n*gga next up
He can't make a song for sh*t
P -- mad smart, no Cornell West sh*t
But I can make death ring your doorbell next, kid
I told y'all I'm with the family, chill
Don't sleep, a phone call will get your family killed, P

[Hook: Torae]
Gotta be Sean
Gotta be who bodied the song
Cause Brownsville ill, gotta be on
Ruckus, you wrong
Gotta be -- what the f*ck is you on?
Popping pills, chopping krills -- what the f*ck is you doing?
Gotta be the best rapper to spit it
Clap in a minute
Gotta let these n*ggas know who still actually live it, P
[Verse 2: Sean Price]
It gotta be P snapping
The fifth to your face, shake, I gotta be relapsing
Spit in your face, maybe gotta be P laughing
Gift from the eight? Great, it gotta be P clapping
I can't stand around you b*tch n*ggas
Emph beam make your team steam like a fish dinner
But the new sh*t burgandy
With new kicks straight from Munich, Germany
My net worth be making your neck j*rk
Expert whenever, wherever the sket burst
The most fabulous flow
Yo, your whole sh*t dead, toe tag on the floor
Venomous speech, rappers play pretend with the beats
Hit with the knife, goodnight, then I send 'em to sleep
n*gga, General P
And the kit is like the Confederate General Lee
P!

[Hook]