Uh Yea Uh Yea I rely on my skill Not my looks How You the flyest in the room and can’t get booked It’s kind of sad when you think about it These niggas should’ve stopped rapping and went to college But who am I to talk A slight slurred verbiage When I be wrapping in the mic, I’ll be speaking in cursive If it’s not a homie or a opportunity, do not hit my line Do not hit my line no If you ain’t a homie or tryna give me some money, do not hit my line Do not hit my line no I’m not tryna be the next he I’m a be the next ME I’m a be the next HIM Big boy getting slim 1 chick, 2 twins 3 hoes, 4 friends Baby got multiple personalities I dig them in The sky’s the limit to the niggas who never went the past the ceiling You crashing out cause nobody see you as competition Even the man in the mirror can not see the vision You can’t expect some random people to do all the thinking Soon as I wake up, i be losing thoughts Dreams of living life like I’m the boss Couple times I was about to quit, but I called it off Something told me, keep my eye on the ball, but this isn’t golf Huh I feel like Jared Goff, makin passes While I’m racin back into action, man I would hate to lap em I hate to say it, they fascinated, by the way I’m snapping, they’d be Cappin, if they said I wasn’t amazing at rappin But who am I to talk I’m just a dead broke rapper who still can not be bought Like church word searches When I be rapping what I write, I be speaking in verses