Tha Medley

[Verse 1: Youngin]

It's the M-I-C-H-E-A-U-X
After me, they hate that they gotta play you next
You and your trap rap, sounding like crap-crap
Claiming you pack crack and macs in your backpack
Knowing you never had more than a couple of bags at a time
Feeling you gotta brag in your rhymes
Why, you never lived a real life or something
Feeling hungry, living with no lights or nothing
Mice are running around the kitchen like "What up"
Roaches are running around not giving a fuck
Nah, you don't know nothing about that life
Because you always had cars and you always had ice, right?
Tha Premier Tape is authentic
Everything about it is real no gimmicks
You can try to mimic and imitate my style
But you will never get it, I'm irreplaceable pal, blow

[Verse 2: Youngin]

Imagine a nigga like me conforming to society
Shrinking down my white-tee and screaming "fuck sobriety"
Picture that like Kodak, you must be smoking on crack
Or mixing coke with your pack if you think I'm doing that
That nine-five, nine-six Jigga flow, niggas know
That Youngin be walking straight on the beat and never pigeon-toed
Here we go, here we go like I'm Domino
Your momma know, Obama know, that Youngin is phenomenal
The flow is astronomical, I'm out of this world
Yeah, that's why I got you niggas pouting like girls
Not Boy Meets World, but my white girl is like Topanga
Because every nigga want's to bang her
And drain the main vein, and leave a stain on her tanktop
I leave her eyes slanted like she's Asian because she banged cock (Bangkok) kno me
Because I'm the motherfucking man, I mean that shit
Verbal disease on tha mic, vaccine that shit motherfucker

[Verse 3: Youngin]

This is some of that epic shit that you can only get with Preme
All of my hip-hop heads you know what the fuck I mean
Some of that gritty ass street music
That cock a hammer, leave a nigga underground six-deep music
That black-glove, black-tee music
Some of that motherfucking Creep like TLC music
They didn't know that Youngin had a G side
We ride packing more stingers than a beehive
And shorty knows whenever she rides
She ain't getting no love unless she's sitting knee high
Or spreading open her knee's wide
Or bending that ass over so I can skeet on her cheeks, right
You new niggas on the street on some rat shit
'til you get trapped for the cheese like "what happened"
Trapped in, you lil' punks need to stay down
Before they find your lil' body slumped on the playground