Class Act lyrics

[Verse 1: Nick Grant]
I’m the paper man, boy it’s hard to hate me with your hating ass
Flight so long take a day to land
Better call for help 9-11 with the paper tag
And money shouldn’t make the man
Sliding with the sticks in the Jason mask
Man I couldn’t even pay a b*tch to glance
Now these b*tches want to do me like the latest dance
Hold up, f*ck those n*ggas get your money man they all jealous
Who you kidding boy we shining like we bald headed
Money long team strong like Carl Weathers
n*ggas playing both sides like pallbearers, preach
I been straight keep it permed out
When you doing dirt they bring the worms out
Turns out n*ggas ain’t who they say, I’m as real as they come
Check the sperm count
I’m that n*gga all these n*ggas overrated
My ex still want me and she want to know the latest
Let her give me top because she say I’m underrated
I’m the poster child, like a f*cking Gerber baby
Spaz on rappers, bad b*tch with me
pus*y so fat look like her ass on backward
Yea I’m from the bottom need a ladder to reach
Still I brought more n*ggas with me than a Khaled release

[Verse 2: Nick Grant]
Got to get the money, real n*ggas know who run it
You gone play it back because them other n*ggas fronting
Ducking 5-0 like I owe you half a hundred
Your team ain’t eating that’s some hard sh*t to stomach
Body bag flow we gone need stretchers
Checks look like we in the league we ain’t stressing
All about the head like a DMV check it
With some real b*tches this the R&B section
Yea, funny how you rap n*ggas fell off
You ain’’t popping you’re going to have to write a tell all
She gone get that thing wet because we well off
Keep it ghetto like water on your Kellogg’s
Uh, and you should never burn bridges
Went from A to Z, I’m talking firm business
Game so cold I’m just pouring on a blizzard
Off the bullsh*t like Jordan on the Wizards
Yea, how you want it. A woman like a mom and you get to clone it
From where these guns spitting like a live performance
Pistol poking in my denim like I got a boner
I’m the youngest legend that you ever seen
Yea I’m from the dirty but forever clean
You n*ggas always saying what you never mean
Eyes glowing for the green like a Belly scene
We the realest n*gga
[Verse 3: Dro]
Pockets on flubber, I just hit a broad backstage now I’m rocking the show wearing rubber
I’m truly not the others, I’m standing with the Cannons like Nick
Then I hit them with fury my brother
f*ck your opinions
My n*ggas got dope when the feds come we talk like minions
Flow is irreplaceable, swag untraceable
I’m hungry lets have lunch at Benihana
Ice is really rockable, n*ggas call me Dro Cruise because my flow mission is impossible
Still up in Pappadeaux, still eating gators and the outfit mystery
Mix now and later
Hoes in the condo, Strivers Row [?]
44 caliber bussing at your brain matter
And when its time to die I want a Hustle Gang platter
JG told me he needed me, terrific
Out rap who, be more specific
Dro holy with the flow, he’s more religious
Killing these n*ggas, dig more than ditches
Giving them stiches in front of these whores and b*tches
Dro and Nick fury sh*t so tremendous
Step into my vision you better prepare for the battle
Church tabernacle yall n*ggas are cattle, beef