Say what ya will, just don’t let tic & tock double-trouble with Yo’ flaunt,
To create is to intonate, what’s-up is down-with scheming meaning … say word
Style’s da Bling—It’s everything! But only dose Franklins, dey be doing da walk.
Cause after all be done, past tense leaves, a body, outlined in Casper’s chalk.
Grand masters flash-in-da-pan be grabbing-up cash from yo hand,
Cuckoo’s clock can cow at eleven, ole’ news live at five, barely leads at six,
Catch dat re-CAP die at seven, does skating backwards get ya’ll into heaven?
Forget da future, December dat past, have some presence and retool da cast.
Pushing participles, representing yo corners, cause it’s da deal what’s real.
Remembering might feel golden, stills withers y’all wrinkled past olden.
No returning dem boys to the back of dat bus, so what’s the fuss?
Chartered planes, trains, and fly automobiles can’t even hip-hop dat feel.
Gone into overtime, Cristal chills on chipped ice, a sacrifice of taste,
Hey what’s the haste, goin’ nowhere with dat cut & paste
Misering dem Benjamins, fronting with ‘popguns’ on yo 4 BY 4 ride,
Casually losing yo tie seems almost as good as dressing shorty to win.
Come the shootout, past time for doing dat thrill kill
No luck of the draw gonna-be-savin alla youse posers & hosers
Needing closers with serious skills, still gonna cost ya dem big Bill$
So “little piggies” now be da time to break open da BANK ! ! !