RAPAPARTY de Toxic Crow

Thou shalt not fuck with Detroit me
Never owned a Coogi, Ford truck, or a pair of them gator Mauris
Please hold your applause for these parables and stories
Give all praise to Allah, to God be the glory
My Papa raised me like I'm a dog with rabies
Playin' "da ha da ha" in the drop Mercedes
Drivin' with the chopper daily
Pupils dilated like I'm Sada Baby
Nozzle on that gun larger than the one on that Gaga lady
Play with my time like I'm a playful don
My arm comes out the car, my window down like I'm tryna borrow some Grey Poupon
First these bitches hate it, then they love it, then they hate to love it
I'm straight with publishin', I don't care if the radio station's stubborn
You haters busters, I'm David Ruffin
It'll take me nothin' to put your life on a dollar menu right there by the Egg McMuffin
While you boys totin' Glocks, snortin' rocks, and importin' thots
I'm floatin' with forty knots, to the bag like I'm a border cop
Any artist in hip-hop fuck with Nickel stock, sure to drop
Especially if he Russell Wilson, good guy, sorta pop
You sure to die, pallbearers bring flowers, he's mortified
Me and Porter got the same stayin' power, that hoarders got
Whoever Superman, I got kryptonite in these hands
But I'd rather soup a man, leave you liquefied with these cans
I don't care if you rap niggas is trendin' topic, your shit is garbage
You couldn't make a classic out of that trash if you had Brenda drop it
You at the rental car spot Enterprise while I'm enterprisin'
I don't cop my whip without coppin' rims and a body kit and my tint is darkened
Closest I'ma probably get, to window shoppin'

I've been a real nigga since the beginning
I did it without the ridiculous gimmicks or pretentious pretending
I was taught the sky is the limit by way of Fenkell and Plymouth
But my only limit is sticking my dick in a chick with a blemish
I speak from a frequency that was meant to uplift the antennas
I sing with the intention to riff with The Tenors, my gift is tremendous
I didn't get rich and forget the incentive
I'm never buying into religion or soliciting sinners, my nigga
We attribute the original wave we articulate
Through bricks of yay, zipped up on 18-wheelers on interstates
We distribute weight then matriculate into real estate
Then we assimilate, powder dealing they probably still'll hate
Me and Em came through, did the original Renegade
Gave that shit to Jay, then spit a gem on stage at Dilla-Day
Used to rock the byzantine mix Cîroc with the grenadine
Euthanize the blocks with a sinner they tend to intervene
Snitchin' is a sin, as mixing your linen and denim jeans
Growing up, blowing up was a long shot, like drone shots or limousines
In between Greyhounds and Jim McLean
Dome shot a cop with a stray round like Slim and Queen
It's 'bout time we invest in our mental status
I write rhymes for Anunnaki slave ancestors on emerald tablets
Today we raging on Vegas stages with bass guitars
Yesterday was agents chasing us, aprons and mason jars
Planets align in orbit
My mind absorbs it, the finest orifice
Therefore my soul can glow in divine proportions
You niggas snitchin', you need to stop your beefin'
Cops crooked, wearing swat stickers attending Nazi meetings
Liberace Nickel rock gems, Timbs and Huarache sneakers
The 'caine made me able to drop the deacon and go off the deep end
Y'all so weak, I forgot the weekend
Philosophical syllables seamstress speaking in a biblical Fibonacci sequence
When that bar drop, you feel your life pass you by from your far-side
I got more poppin' bros than DeBarge got
I suppose I compose art like a Bartók, chart high
Especially now that I'm steppin' outta that economic apartheid
They left us out of the archive
I'm definitely probably a marked guy
My weapon's out and I'm wetting y'all like I'm webbing out of a shark's eye
Stepping out of a hard top on the 7 Mile and Oak Park, I
Where several bodies get hog-tied, and left inside of the chalk lines
10 toes standing on granite floors, a Mosano porch
Hoes snortin' Xanax Roseanne endorse, a Gauguin of sorts
Culture vultures know I won't stand for shit I can't enforce
Labels know my name ain't on paper or dough I can't endorse
Cordae you know you'll always be my lil' man, of course
Don't let Atlantic destroy your standings, playin' mechanic horse
Pass the torch and walk away a hammer-thrower, my hands of force
Slap Michael Rapaport 'cross the face at the Gansevoort, like
That's for Meek
Drop a Lonzo Ball corpse off on Nas porch dog, that's for the blasphemy
No apathy, inside the mind of white supremist with cognitive dissonance most compromised position for blacks to be
They cast stones and sticks at the rap throne of drip and the coin flips and
Well, all you gon' get back is a splash from me
I rap ridiculous, craft ubiquitous
I have you niggas swimming where the bass and the fishes is, ask Vishis
Yeah, I piss off the critics, I'm Master P
The heavy metal was always strapped to me 'fore there was ever a Yela' rapper beef
Throwing choppers in run-by's
Unloading them outta Hyundais
Lotus shoppin' in Mumbai
That's my modus-operandi
My portfolio expands
Income from the slick sayings
While the FBI tryna give the M1 to the stick-man
Spit them braggin' bars, grab your balls, that's the speech from all
They told us money talks, ain't tell us wealth don't speak at all
You a fan of ours or you not a fan of art
I'm a dog baller for Los Angeles broads my cannon bark, jam and spark
And it talk, brrrrrrt, skip, brrrrrt, hold up, skip
Man this bitch sounding like Shannon Sharpe
Don't get your soul thrown to the deacon by way of this weekend's news
For violating a dude like me for publicity and views
Shorty don't get this .40 and this Colt .45 misconstrued
'Cause you new school dudes got Billy Dee confused
I rather watch Floyd May' flash in a Gucci store a day
Than work for a asshole who get mad at me askin' for a raise
Cop a new cotton-picking Aston in gray just for the slaves
You niggas current, Nickel was born and raised to destroy a wave
Rather give these young 'uns directions, 'stead of ignore they ways
Plant trees so all my advancees can enjoy the shade
60-40 ventures while tryna make 60 40 ways
Paid 40K just for the J's before the Ye's
Glass door attached to a castle, exquisite foyer
Side door trapped through the silver screen, Sidney Poitier
Flash gold on stage stone-face just for The Spades
Paid 50K for the stone flakes that's 40 yays
Back when the 1990 west, met the shiny vest
I had Tommy S tryna sign me next
Mazi Mani Lex, dry-snitching y'all probably find him wet
Tell your A&R and PR that y'all ain't shit without your tiny desk