6MR j.j. - Onion Lyrics

In a way, i feel i allllways been here
Like black folk eating hogmogs, pig ears
Trey-57 under my arm, call it Big Bear
Say my ghetto aint no hood, well you ain't been there
I take my L's like a champ, lose like a winner
Street-level but im fresh as f*ck
100-spoke spinners
Used to fidget
Couldn't pay attention
Then i met my swimmers
Everybody eats, my niggas get two dinners
When it's plenty, its enough, yeah

Imma go home and smoke something, yeah
Rip it out the onion, yeah
I talk big, i hold something, yeah
Joe Budden, yeah
Imma go home and smoke something, yeah
Rip it out the onion, yeah
I talk big, i host something, yeah
Joe Budden, yeah

I'm a hot bottom like a coffee pot
If you can beat the pussy, then I'll assault the cock
I walk around town like i cost a lot
I get wet like a faucet popped
A fire sign, I burn, I got rid of the crop
Let's start it back from the top
I'm a hot bottom like a coffee pot
I'm high at the top and you often not
I ain't f*cking with boys, wait for ya balls to drop
Cause when my album drop, thats when ya coffin drop
I am out of the closet like Klan hood
Really damn good, NO CAP
You don't like fags, get off the map
I big man niggas with the pussy on pristine
Take it to the edge like an iphone 10, full screen
If you wanna lay, sir, i got the beam
A lil nigga, but im Top Dawg, Baby Keem
I saw the sign, I knew I would make it in a dream
Now my waking hours are bacon hours, i bring home the things
She think she love me, just wanna touch my jeans
I'm walking on prayers and dancing on snares
Ya think ya got luck wit me?

I been big blessed, aunties OGs
I'm checked in, I'm on new cheese
I big time move like queen chess piece, yeah

Imma go home and smoke something, yeah
Rip it out the onion, yeah
I talk big, i hold something, yeah
Joe Budden, yeah
Imma go home and smoke something, yeah
Rip it out the onion, yeah
I talk big, i host something, yeah
Joe Budden, yeah

I'm up in this bitch like a baby
Don't f*ck wit me, i got the eighty
And I'm uppin that bitch like a D-pad
From the C-side like a beach pad
Drinking water, Heineken and wheat grass
I got LGBT on my C pass
Bitch, I'm big trans like the slave trade
I'm a stud on the amistad
Full of hot boys like Miami-Dade
I sit on his face like a C-pap
Something sweet in the trunk like tree sap
Couldn't find ya on the heat map
You aint making noise, you just with ya boys
Drunk and talking tough across the East ramp
I went to beat up the beat camp
I was twelve, i was freestyling under street lamps
Just for the bitches and back slaps
Notebooks filled back packs
It was take what you need or don't have that
I can sense it when you half-cap Like a visor lid, like a running app
You better watch where you stumpin at
We got the buds and the bops in a bundle pack
I ain't on the nets, I be on the maps