The Hunter
Okay, Nike Tech silks and Huaraches
Step through on the polly
George Jeffer' with ya bottom
Better spoon wasabi throwin' like berettas
Let 'em shoot like a homi'
Build a cypher in the hall
Bet I funeral lobbies let's get into it
Double and double
How I made mine to cut a and let it roll
I'm with the same guys that
Juggle shells and juggle stoves know I lines
I juggle cells and juggle thrones
I'm out the dirt
Swingin' at the Trumps if my Nia's in it
And still got the line on the pieces hittin
Live out the Stuy come outside and seem like
What seen is different
Around the corner still got the nina hittin'
Say hi to the C-list celeb
Who pen for the A-pluses
And work a bedroom like I'm
Gettin' paid for fuckin'
I'm here, change the discussion who want it?
Fuck, what the waitin' for?
Either say the verse or don't say no more
Fuck with us, ahh
Ayo Zoo, good lookin' let's get these niggas
Yo, so let me discuss, tell me
Who really better than us?
My niggas killin' shit like
That ain't aggressive enough
Y'all shit weak
I kind of feel like they left it to us
Okay cool
I'll be glad to come and freshen it up
I'm Ol' Dirty in '94
Bubble vest and some Chukks
You JR smith in a slump
I'm Russell West' in the clutch
I just tell the fans the truth
And y'all be dressin' it up
When they thought we was fallin'
Off, we was levelin' up, let's go
Sometimes I feel like the trap
Kind of curse me
It's flooded in my raps when I
Look back in all my verses
The D's pass by and double
Back round to search us
'Cause I get birds on the arm
Like a Matt Ryan jersey
Who ready to play? I'll slide
Broad day in the morning
Spittin' hot shit early like
Sway In The Morning
At the West Inn, best friends makin' a porno
Chill and watchin' the Knicks play while
I'm waitin' to join 'em
You got a direct connect
That's major employment
Smokers steal from their children for
A taste of this poison
And that's in every ghetto
Ain't no way to ignore it we gangstas
We get you clipped without raisin' our voices
Ride dirty
And break laws every day like it's normal
Strapped up
We wear guns on our waist like it's formal
And this verse right here
Just a page in my journal
And you can't see the scars
'cause the pain was internal
Growin' up in the hood we
See the craziest things
Hustlas and ball players got
The craziest game never our governments
We use the craziest names
And sons beefin' with they pops
Like Baby and Wayne the hunter, uhh