documentary - osyris lyrics
(hook)
yo what it do son? talk of the town, ‘
osy still here, still holding it down
new york, d-town still the best rapper around
and if you got a problem f-cker come and get it with sound
(verse 1)
i been doing this sh-t since you sat on santa
since you ain’t had cable and relied on antennas
since your girlfriend used to watch hannah montana
since the south got hot from ludacris in atlanta
i ain’t had time to sell white or deal weed packets
this son shine daily all of y’all are my planets
and i burn baby burn like big’s old habits
got no time to collab with you lame -ss f-ggots
slam like vince, carter, dwyane, wade
my heat burnin’ yall better duck to the shade
i’mma be here forever so you better behave
if you disobey get at me if you still feel brave
i’m holding all the cards while you motherf-ckers folding
broke the west like russell and this boy still loading
heard y’all said new york dead hope you f-ck boys joking, i’mma make you all see the lights like ellie goulding
(hook)
(verse 2)
heard you young boys getting girls kikin’ like soccer
while i’m out here talking dirty to your old man’s daughter
while you kikin’ i’mma beat it beat it like a boxer
but she still ain’t sh-t like phil jackson’s roster
sh-t, see.. i’m a cold lil’ fellow
beat her box up like my name was canelo
her moans in tune like the beat of my demo
shootin’ 24/7 like kobe and melo
now her mouth all white, and it feel so right
she told you you can’t shoot like ya name was dwight
dunked in that chicky like how jordan take flight
she the rim and i posterized you like brandon knight
uh, but i still don’t like the clippers
do the nene at ya funeral, i’m a wizard
now, put that on a wall like a clock and ticker
my ex like the ball call me curry i don’t miss her
(hook)
(verse 3)
brown skin, straight hair, though this rap sh-t i perfect
i know the stereotype that you thought that i’d project
in this dialect you’d expect for me to reflect
yet this 7/11 kid got white girl wet
l1ck the curry i’m the chef, i shoot it like steph
on her face deadeye fouled up call the ref
that’s her man i ain’t met, but i’m l1ckin’ on her br–sts
and i know it ain’t right, but he shoulda never left
sh-t, you could blow i’m inflating
all this hating i’m escaping, on point like i’m payton
on my guard pump and faking, f-ck complaining
i’m restraining from the silly under rating
i’m just waiting and i’m patient
lock h-rns then i’m satan, this is taken
hold this l i am taken, tonight for her gaining
cause she on her knees son and her kitty stay raining
ask drake that’s a hot line he know what i’m saying
motherf-cker cause i am
(continued hook from verse 3)
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