[ Featuring Meyhem Lauren, Hologram ]
He knows my name but, my name is not my name
And you?
To them you're only the Greek
And of course I'm not even Greek
Yeah, Baklava, yeah
Hologram, yeah
That's comin' up
Yo, it's Mister 40/40 (uh)
Dressed like I'm Treach from Naughty
A young brother that'll stretch your shorty (damn)
David Caruso couldn't connect the story (what's up?), solve the puzzle
His favorite murder weapon was a shovel
It's the jefe (uh), Spanish women all over my body like I'm Machete homes
All I do is write these essay poems
Let's get dusted at the Mets game homes (uh)
Like sixteen handles, catch me swirlin' in the left lane home (woo)
I don't even got my left leg on (damn)
Tryna dance tonight (damn)
This ain't your language, that I seen wrapped up, my hands are nice
Me and my brother go together just like lamb and rice
(F*ck me)
I eat African shrooms, while rappin' on tombs
Back in June when I clapped at your goon (ah)
My car color blue off, fool it's new and it's too off
'Fore the limo driver moved off, or we'll off your new golf shoes
Workin' on my birdie putt, your heard me, slut?
Hurry up, curvy butt, uh
I need a bitch to go down on me (down)
I mean really go to town on me (town)
I mean really do a number on me (suck that dick, bitch)
Supplyin' an elite, a few fiends died at my feet (woo)
Got dealt a bad hand off a half gram (ow)
Feast the fam, and give you a half Xan
And throw you at the Grand Canyon (you f*ckin' dead, haha)
Yeah, uh
Uh
Meyhem doin' good, that's a rumor that I heard
Wearin' diamonds, eatin' blue fin tuna
They wanna test me like I'm Bradley Beal
None of your motherf*ckas real, my nigga pass the steel
Mass Appeal, mass production
Mass destruction, crime, corruption
Wine consumption
On a private island wildin'
The sun threw shade 'cause it's jealous of my medallion
Picture and compilin', late nights like Jimmy Fallon
Louis silk covered with dice, picture me stylin'
My life story is an open shirt outfit
We gettin' money kid, you niggas ain't 'bout shit
