[Intro]
Yeah
Termanology
Law Town
Funk Flex
Yo check it

[Verse 1]
First off, fuck the mumble rap
I put my gun in they mouth, let 'em mumble to that
I'm on my New York Shit, dead ass facts beat
Free my man Wais P, free Max B
Still I put the gun to they head
Since Funkmaster Flex and the ghetto celebs
I'm no shorty
Homie I'll stop your glory
Taking shots, Drink Champs, shout out to N.O.R.E
I'm from Law Town, Mass, so they hatin' on me
It's all good, most of 'em I pop they shawty

[Interlude]
You feel me? Hold up we're just getting started. Yo

[Verse 2]
Life is all about choices, brown or clear liquor
Either way, that shit meant to pierce liver
Let me break it down and give you a clear picture
This game full of clowns, just keeping it real witcha
Frontin' on the Gram so they can appear witcha
Frontin' like stars but really a mere flicker
I can't front though, the plot just grows thicker
Even Pac started to think he was the real Bishop
I got the juice now Term go ahead and Diddy Bop
50 caliber in the trunk, I call it Fitty Wap
My cousin still in the can, sometime I sit and plot
Another innocent man killed by a city cop
Courts, judges and pigs they all go hand in hand
They even falsified death pics of Sandra Bland
Who can you trust now since you can't trust the news
And Fox 5 feeding us lies, thinking we fools
Guess that's the reason I rhyme to drop jewels
And give you something different you wasn't taught in a school
And fuck love cuz love will keep you confused
That's why I switch bitches like kicks, fitteds and shoes
I'm tryna lighten the mood, that's why I kid and joke
But ain't a damn thing funny about living broke
Or shoveling snow to give the kids Christmas clothes
Or dropping 200 songs and ain't got shit to show
Eating Ramen and eggs for like 9 days
And your royalty check can't even buy J's
Thinking back to when I used to supply haze
Moms stressing me , "This ain't the son that I raised"
I just wanna get on and live the good life
Fat bank account, new big house, kids, wife
Picket fence with a couple of dogs
A big ass yard and a four car garage
Like it's all about triplets
[Interlude]
Chevelles, baby!
Hey yo, check it
Yo!

[Verse 3]
One hand on the bag, other hand is on the pad
In a Kaepernick jersey, I ain't standing for the flag
Might as well be Confederate, the way they so devilish
Treat men in blue above the law, like we irrelevant
Kill us on the camera, with little to no answer
And ignorance is spread through the street, like it was cancer
Even Obama couldn't do shit, but propaganda
Not even Sway, Ye' or Allen Iverson had the answer
Monopolies, turned to heath insurance policies
And student loans designed to keep you in poverty
Look, what you gon do wit ya life?
You gon' spend 5 hours a day looking at likes?
Or you gon' get a education, have you a revelation
That saving your soul leads your to permanent salvation
Or you go out drinking, falling for temptation
Thinking you sleeping with a person, really sleeping wit Satan
Only thing you got when you die is ya legacy
And ya soul, let's hope you ain't sell it and live heavenly
The devil be over your shoulder and he be plotting
So what now?
Now it's time for you to watch him