Piñata

Live like 9-5, I rhyme and come alive
 My grind divides fine through my divine eyes
 It's prime time, you wish you could buy time, but it's my time
 Thoughts against I, blasphemy, it's like a vice crime
 I roll 'em thick and I ignite mines
 I don't even get high, I just get equally back in my right mind
 I'm getting lethal with these nice lines
 Creeping through your speakers
 Catch you sleeping like a thief of in the nighttime
 Young Doms, none of you niggas correspond, bitch
 Kick the fuck out of the track on some Jean-Claude shit
 Get the fuck out of the streets, nigga, I bomb shit
 Shit ain't all good no more, y'all on your con shit
 The fuck is your conscience? Testing me is nonsense
 The whole city is mine, I'm the best up in my conference
 Ain't feeling me, fine, ain't gotta listen to my shit
 You can hear about me from the critics all on my dick
 Bitch, I've been thugging since the motherfucking Ten Speed
 Redbone on my handlebars, I like my bitches mixed breeds
 Feel the Philly tighten with a 20 sack of stress weed
 Educated, at the stove I'm working recipes
 Reputation say I'm robbing just for recreation
 Revive my enemy with gun-to-mouth resuscitation
 Can't wait to this pussy nigga pay me, I'm impatient
 Let's go kick in their door and strip them naked, leave 'em stinking
 No witness, no weapon, my nigga, the case is over
 The reaper snatched 'em, closed casket, his family needs a closure
 And Moses had ten commandments, Huey had ten points
 Won't see my homie for ten, dropped him off at the joint
 Staring at my future in my rear-view
 Family cried some tears, I got some years, it ain't no issue
 Mama with the tissue
 Saw her breaking down, she just might cry a river
 Murder one, she can't believe she raised that type of nigga
 I tried to do right, but it only got your boy fucked in the game
 So I changed my mind, now I'm back on this grind
 Trying to get this change
 Niggas hate to see me getting it
 Travelling packs with a red dot
 Boy, it ain't your knot, trying to get what you got
 When the rain and the pain gon' stop
 Standing on the porch early, no shoes, selling blow in my socks
 And I was watching for the ghetto bird
 Ain't got no money for college
 So all I know is how to sack and how to serve
 I be damned if I miss another lick for the chips
 Got me stacking, almost splurging on weed, syrup and whips
 Niggas around my way be loving it
 I'm Cadillac'ing, blowing good alligators with the belts to match
 I got an ounce with an ounce to match, bust it down, get back
 Hopefully maybe get the clique out the trap
 I need dough like a bread baker (Amen)
 24/7, got ready on the turf, player
 All day
 Make 'em hop in the new coupe
 Niggas been winning, that ain't nothing new
 Forgive me for the sinning that they be doing in this business
 Not using their words to express truth
 Out in the streets with a screw loose
 On the Westside I got the juice
 Just tell me what you trying to do
 She loving the crew and ain't fucking with you
 I go where the hood niggas get into it
 I go where the bad girls go shop
 Every window tinted but the rooftop
 That money I'll just spend it to get you shot
 Can they be hating, they got no reason
 Right where they got me, the place I Delete 'em
 We kicking on weaklings just for all of their secrets
 I can't believe the shit that I'm seeing
 I'm hearing the words, doing my reading, it's really absurd
 Not enough leaders, the shit that they feed you, it's just what you eating
 They call me young Veggies, I make it go green
 I smash in all your teeth, the fuck is you saying?
 You got the candy's, the niggas is spraying
 To get away and take over the land, yeah
 My mind on capital, I'm not just rapping, dude
 I'm out to speak actual factual, watch how a master moves
 You ball a fist what that gon do
 I'm from a city clapping fools
 You off the tit and lacking while watching me fashion stools
 Shitting styles, you never had a hot line that I didn't dial
 Little princes always trying to fit a bigger crown
 But don't forget I sit amidst some seasoned gents
 Them bitches knowing he a pimp ain't even need to read the blimp
 It was a good day, good day to O'Shea
 A death certificate for anyone who lay in my way
 You best revisit all the tombstones that lay in my wake
 Me being knowledge, be honest
 You seen the prophet get sacrificed by the opps
 It get ratchet when ratchets out and they firing
 Residue on piñatas, wonder what's up inside of 'em
 It's sure ain't no Vicodin cause it up and excited 'em
 But they ain't get high enough, if you ain't succeed, nigga
 Buy again then try again
 It's the irrational type of nigga to John Madden tackle you
 Steal your car keys and crash your coupe in the botanical
 Wrap you with shackles, tangle you, pull from ever angle, dismantle you
 Watch your blood mixed with mud and stain the gravel too
 Grab and shoot, rib cage open like a parachute
 Close range, switchblade, poke 'em if it's personal
 Blood stains, gold fangs, mask on, no traits
 Murder one, closed case, stolen whip, no plates
 Half a body in the trunk, go to prison, no way
 Speed off the Brooklyn Bridge before I catch a cold case
 Realize I'm the voice for those who do not have a voice
 So I voice my fucking voice, I don't have a fucking choice
 Cold blooded, leave some niggas, well I hope you got insurance
 Shotgun and shorty lift 'em like the potent in my joint
 Barrels smoking like Red Auerbach
 Still can't believe I'm getting fed on rap
 I don't know what's louder, the pack or the gat
 My endorphins are morphin', absorbin' energy
 Original copy, A Tale of Two Cities gets read to me
 Reading Emerson novels, eating some Belgian waffles
 Some powder go up my nostrils, my dick going down her tonsils
 What's up? Play with an abacus, I've been stressing like Catholics
 That's the shit, a bit of that happiness in my cup
 This generation corrupt, these people brainwashed with evil
 My music is more cerebral, exploring just what you need to
 So this your exodus, Church of the Methodist
 Beating up the pussy, have her screaming like a exorcist
 (*scream sample*)
 Absorb it through your pores, the Lord with horns, a world war
 Whores are more hors d'oeuvre when it's a world tour
 O'Doyle rules