Intro
Uhh
Yeah
Check it
Uhh
Verse 1
Uh
Black and ugly as ever but the Calico talk slick
Loro Piana on the chest while these sons copy my schtick
Brioni buttons poppin like the hammers when I spit
Mad real with the lucre piled high up to the ridge
Infiniti in the driveway Maybach in the garage
Son you rappin bout the gym I'm purchase parks with bodyguard
Baaa-by
You think you hot you think you smooth you think you king of the charts
I been countin cream since your mama pushed you out in the dark
Verse 2
Uh
Check it
Saw your last album son that's a nap in the middle
Beat choppin weak bones you need a doctor not a fiddle
I'm the grandfather of the game with a futuristic pistol
Sippin something amber colored wrapped in something crystal
You a mack of the internet I'm a mack of the avenue
You get jumped by the algorithm I get paid by the revenue
Baaa-by
Nigga thought he slick with the AI written bars
I been freestylin on the corner while you fakin in the car
Outro
Uhh
Bay-buh
The Poppa still here
Son
Still here
ghostofbiggie
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