HOW YA KNOW.

The origin of rhyme, LeBron, and Shi Jing style

Cheap thing style, can afford everything style

Meanwhile, rappers wild out like a keep child

Young Malcom X, like new Twitter name file

 

Wah gwan, asshole, are you ballin’

Stallin’, callin’ ya momma, I just fall in

Legend of hip-hop, signs won’t stop me

You can’t top me, and hard rhymes won’t pop me

 

Martin Luther King Jr in a Civil Rights store

Fightin’ a Civil Rights war, with the whites appalled

No one can up hold, appall a Paul without a black wall

Like the border Mexico, Cubano cigarette stall

 

This is R&B without the B, without a B for me

Listenin’ to James B, Michael Jack’, and Ray C

Pay me a million, burnt out like Two-Face

We killin’ ‘em, we billin’ ‘em billions, like I’m two-faced

 

Coke laced, push on an ash tray, long plan

A heist to get money, for a long-life high man

Management, they say to get a mannequin, ignore ‘em

They’re borin’ me, more than a body post mortem

 

Holy shit, this song is holy shit, like Christ’s excrement

Extra men sent up to Heaven for more sentiment

Cinnamon and sugar, perfect mix like my girl

She twirl her hair like she’s the heir to the throne of Whirl

 

Whiplash, get ya hit fast, car glass tint

Wind hit face, car race, in a fast stint

Fastin’, Ramadan, rhyme a dime or dollar

Dog collar on a cat, Hellcat, Dodge a

 

Fight on the street with the red and blue mix

I’m talkin’ about the gangs, yes, Pirus and Crips

Payin’ tips to the pizza guy, playin’ Call of Duty

Cool down the jacuzzi, then we watch a movie

 

Can ya rhyme? Can ya rap? Doesn’t matter I’m better at that

or anything anywhere, I can make stacks

I’m on it with hits, yes, I’m on it with Smith, fresh

If ya battlin’ me, then ya better be yo best

 

Because that’s how ya know, how ya know we get money

That’s how ya know, how ya know we get cash

That’s how ya know, how ya know we get green-green

That’s how ya know, how ya know we get stacks