[Intro]
This shit feel like a classic, TU!
Halo, uh
I'm gon' let that beat ride for a second, dawg
Uh
Uh, okay

[Verse]
The quarantine pack is in, GRIPPER is back again
Tigg' tryna roll a seven like I shot craps with him
Could not afford shit off the racks, now I get racks with him
Bitch-boys jump on the track and the raps get masculine
Keep practicin', you not half as passionate
I'm the bastard that mastered it
And still own the masters to my classic shit
Far from a pacifist, better watch who you clashin' with
I'm Cassius with the jab, quit the jabberin'
My words get to stabbin' like a javelin travelin' through the abdomen
I do damage with a pad and pen
Back in my bag again, I got it from here TU!, tap me in
This shit feel like when legends are born
And many weapons are formed, but I always weather the storm
Ahead of the norm, go find more competitors for him
It's like I got my hand on a lil' n***a head
And he swingin', but he ain't even connectin' with my legs
Been a stand-up-guy since I stood on my cousin's pegs
Bikin' it through the hood, high as hell off the reg'
Before perc's and mollies sent you n***as off the edge
I was out here, flip flops and tube socks
Stashed all of my money from juugs off in the shoe box
Was never one to slew rocks, but kept two Glocks
A Rondo and a Zubac
You think you 2Pac? Bet a few shots will prove that you not
I ain't amused by the tough-guy act
And know the last thing I wanna do is bust my strap
But if it's either you or me, sayonara my man
Dyin' ain't a part of the plan, it ain't the hand you dealt
But how you play the cards in your hand, this shit was hardly luck
I had to get it out the mud like the car was stuck
A modern day martyr on the MARTA bus, I spar like Spartacus
With any fool that think that they smart enough to bar me up
Rap messiah, the flow rapid fire
This go for any classics prior, I'm passin' by ya
I'm back, inspired, most of the shit I hear is whack, I'm tired
I took a nap for months and nobody lapped me once
It's clear to see that I'm ahead of my time
Like the boy from Bed–Stuy, shot dead in his prime
They ain't caught on to Porch yet, and Snubnose was a flex
Now A&Rs sendin' texts, they wanna know what's next
Well, since these n***a still sleepy, I might do an EP
This don't count, it's just me workin' out
To get the album n***as gotta offer up the pesos
Until then I lay low, for now, here's Halo