Intro: Jas Mace
Uh huh, just groove to that one, sit back, drink a little drink

Verse 1: Jas Mace
Man I'm in a zone like a 2-3 defending the key (uh huh)
Drop knowledge from the top just don't put me in a box (nah)
Jas Mace might break every stereotype (uh huh)
Like getting played with the bass on blast at high decibels right
I mastered the gift
And been known to spit some sick shit like a talk with a lisp
So don't get to close because you might get shot (uh huh)
With 16 to the dome, the autopsy confirmed (uh huh)
Death by a rhyme assassin, deadlier than a black mamba
Looking for her baby daughter welcome to the slaughter (uh huh)
And even if you brought a ghost writing consorter
My proton pack will trap his wack raps (uh)
The 49ers ain't a dance group out the 90s doing disco (nah)
We love the west coast but we're not from San Francisco (nah)
49 Matthews Road that's the home (uh huh)
Of Din Thomas, Grouchy Greg, and ATC in Miami

Hook
I got the wild style
Always been a loud child
Still droppin flames
Chopping the game
I got the wild style
Always been a loud child
Step to this if you coulda
2mo'Key
I've never been there. 夢の続きをonce again
果てしなく広がる空の彼方まで
僕を連れて行く魔法のツールはそうさブラックミュージック
いつの間にか虜だった
何も知らないよ、まだ
人目すら気にせずに触れ合う肌
気の向くままに自分らしくいればいい
夜空照らし浮かぶ目の輝き
中学、高校で学んだ社会のルール
優秀で利口な奴とは無縁のlife
気まぐれ風来で形成された2mo'key
あの時のメモリー、そうさ紐解き
笑い声が止まらないよ
かけがえのない思いでのフォトグラフを眺め
腐れ縁のfriends
永遠に変わらず共に歩んでいく宿命

Hook
I got the wild style
Always been a loud child
Still droppin flames
Chopping the game
I got the wild style
Always been a loud child
Step to this if you coulda
Verse 3: Marchitect
Thee ingredients are pure and the recipe is raw
We're the Reservoir Dogs of metaphors and bars (uh)
Reppin' for the cause of the hip-hop game
That's overrunning with suckers and plus some hip-hop lames (you know)
We're in tip top shape like a pyramid in Cairo
Coming with that fire bro, just like a pyro
We're coming with the heat like a gunner what's up
Hit you in the head like a gun but shut up (shut up)
Save it, put it in your pocket for later (uh)
Because your bubblegum raps lost their flavor (yeah)
And see we're so major like the MLB
And all I see is mic clones trying to get like me (get like me)
But we're studio occupants
We get copied like documents
You biting for dollars like you ain't got no sense (uh)
Me and my dogs are off and running we ain't got no fence
No collar no lease we're rottweilers

Hook
I got the wild style
Always been a loud child
Still droppin flames
Chopping the game
I got the wild style
Always been a loud child
Step to this if you coulda