Tell your b*tch my ad-libs are the reason why we need to get it cracking. Yo, my fault. By accident. All I got to do is walk behind and pat it. Yeah, her ass got a barcode, and her pus*y got patented. And that's just my rapping sh*t. I don't want to have to take her "Back to the - back to the crib!" I got beef with Chris because he ain't seeing this sh*t. And the n*gga swear can so I'ma stare him down like I did in LA. D-I-L-L-A, let me know if I'm crossing a line I'm a boss in his time. Period. PERIOD. n*ggas ain't HEARING it, hearing it. All they do is act like they mirroring me. n*ggas got froze and they tried to twist it. Trying to be with my D-I ballistics. f*ck it, I'm demented, when it comes to my Dilla, n*gga, I just rip sh*t. Literally, ripped your flesh. Disrespect you, disrespect your chick if she's next. And if she believed that pretext that I just read. f*ck it. It's all in my head, right? Is it not? Spacely Sprockets, let me know if this rocks. And my hook is the reason I need to get knots
I was, a millionaire
I was, considered the next best thing
I was, the next big thing
I was, the next kid spinning
I was, considered the greatest
And then I met Dilla!
And then I met Dilla!
And then I met Dilla!
And then I met Dilla!
And then I met Dilla!