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dead presidents - izzy reynard lyrics

[intro]
rey-nard…
reynard records, y’all

[verse 1]
first verse written in my composition
earbuds on, back of the cl-ss; jottin’, listenin’
let this hoe tell, i spent my days in cl-ss
wishin’ i was skippin’ to make a flippin’, chasin’ cash
robbin’ n-ggas; questions later, take then ask
’til that route had me fallin’ flatter then asian -ss
it’s the role of a spic being the oldest of six
tired of eatin’ the bowls of the kix that’s sold on a wic
check it! imagine if there’s nothing after this
and your only way out was through nouns, verbs and adjectives
so whether written words or spittin’ verbs
my sh-t sticks out like dr. jay flippin’ birds
that’s why i’m f-ckin’ ravenous with this rappin’ sh-t
who you clashin’ wit’ when i put my charm in? just a dash of it
rep my city like drake spittin’ views from the six
decided on that back when me and the boy luis was thick
what a time to be alive, love the decade i was born into
it helped create and formulate what goes in isidore’s mental
dicaprio, ratchet flow
rapid flow, bustin’ out of morning traffic flow
so no matter who you fixate your stylings after
you can’t exercise your mind, d-ck face ’cause mines is faster
mama told me pick a career
why the f-ck you think i’m spittin’ this here?
mu’ f-ckaaaa-sss!!!

[verse 2]
so sick of n-ggas
i wanna make money like cosby, what you think?
n-ggas sleeping on me like i slipped something in ya drink
i strike a wondrous pose while you deal with blunderous woes
never knew izzy could spit like this, now someone knows
ready y’all? celebrate ‘fore the ‘fetti falls
get to messin’ ’round with me then the semi pause
everything ’round you looks like spaghetti sauce
spit rhymes so cold that my throat has a steady frost
therefore i’m wheezing, can breathe hardly
that’s okay, alls well; rap game’s lee harvey
can of goya cracked, pintos spillin’ the truth
abe lincoln gettin’ revenge ’cause i’m k!llin’ the boothe
or k!ll cop, i hope the k!llin’ stops
part of the problem ’cause i’d rap about it if it brings a mil’ in guap
how much am i worth if through my sk!lls i’m earning
but i ain’t using my voice for castile and sterling
and every black man that got k!lled over senseless sh-t
if i die tonight, lord let me repent for this
tell my mother i love her, keep my brothers protected
pick up a mic, carry on my objectives
just a young n-gga tryna climb to the top
with his mind, grindin’ and rhyming to stock
pile cake and have c-notes lining my pocks
and know i won’t stop ’til i’m signed to the roc, uh!

[outro]
rebirth, uh!

- izzy reynard lyrics

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