Temple Hyman - Instructions Lyrics

Number one rule
There's a lot of haters...
Number two...
Lotta instigators...
Number three is the game where ya players
Get that
Flip that
Put the money to produce them Hitmakers

Moving...
I ain't talking shakers...
Bread?
F*ck that
Nigga
I'm the baker
Only real...
F*ck the fakers...
Paper hauling ass...
I chase a... muhhf*ckin...

Bag...

Plus the bag be chasing me...
In this bihh
Spitting range
No Tom foolery...
Who is he?
Cause I never caught a case of it
Face off it
I'm Nicolas cage...
Blank face...

No q
But I was a school boy...
Dropped out
There was other plans for me...
Was the change...
Now ain't no body gonna f*ck with Me...
Pushing reps in this rappin...
Got nothing on me...

And when you start out rapping
It's responsibility
Keep those bars up...
That's versatility
Those who those who really like you
Will proceed to come by you
And Those who like you
Not your music
They gone slide you...

Like

Lurk on this and that
Nothing for support
It's just tit for tat...
When they copy you
They expect your support
This real the contradiction in Making it
Then you make it

Then the hating on the hated turns To opposites was taken...

Plain impatient?
Not plain...
Impatient!
Waiting waiting
Taking more time
Need to think quick...
Seeing artists get picked fast
Watch when I'm picked
Shit!

Make myself available to endure that
Sure of that...
Labels with those bonus checks
I'll pay you back
Just play me back...
Just try my tracks...
Just like that
I got ya back...
Ain't falling back

This game is the realest...
Gotta paint the picture in Imagination
Gotta feel it...
Opportunist
Ima steal it
Watch me creepin round the edges
Sphere of danger
You gone fear it
Hear this
Not talking shit
Got it going
Like a hit list

Gotta flip it
Like a stack
And you can't just stop there
Icing out on all ya watches
Jewels and cars
Right there

Sounding like I'm Uncle Cole
But I'm inching toward Drake
Tryna spazz like father Kendrick
Then I'm Temple all again

F*ck ya feelings
Not ya friend
In this game
Ain't no friends
Supporters
Gotta pretend
Honestly
You just a man

In a f*cked up sense
Cents
Gotta make your own
You the king?
Claim ya thrown
OR YOU CAN TAKE YOUR ASS BACK HOME!

Flip that coin
Heads or tails
What's the side
Who gone tell
Send a message
Or you fail
Spot for keeps
Hard to tell

See them records
Can you sell
Gotta deal
3 To sell
Sold out
Cause I'm poppin
Inching up
My pockets stocking

I'm really choppin...

F*ck a shelf
But I got stocks bitch

Withdrawaling
Mainly deposits
Saving?
Yea
I gotta stop it
Cause I'm young
Yea
Got cash to waste
Stereotype
Nigga I got it

Dirty money
Ima wash it
New to entry
Ima see it
Kept it like a lil secret
Pep talk?
Never need em

Less money
And more bullshit
Then it's f*ck it
Ima lose it
Royalties
Want my percentage
Need that 50/50 split

Like I'm Russ
What they want
I'm the fire
To y'all blunt
But y'all ain't gone chain me down
I'm limitless
Bring it on

Switched it up
Cause a nigga body beats
Camouflage
Y'all prolly can't see me
Sheesh sheesh

They say I look like Nas
Maybe I'm Nostradamus
Im on a rap killing spree
You'll never know when your time is

One hit wonder
My ass
I'm in this bitch
Ripping shit
Making it last
These lyrics cocked...
I'm putting em on blast

Shows to shows
Like I was set up in a cast...
But you ain't gonna ever see a nigga layed up in a casket
Money bags
Piling
Easter
Only got the basket
Making moves with money
Guess this how you feelin when you Trappin

Wooooo
Shit!
I really don't know what else to say
Sheesh...
Ohh wait...
Hold up...
And another thing...

Not much music videos you'll see me in
But you'll hear that real shit
When I grip this pen...