[Verse 1: Tragedy Khadafi] Closed captions when I'm rapping, it's picture perfect/ I think different, Steve Jobs, my thoughts emergin'/ Anti-commercial version via my service/ The slugs that hit Muammar right in his turban/ Back to the federal currency, get from under me/ About to make these haters so mad, there's so much more to me/ 2-5, the brand monumental like WalMart/ I master the flow art since Marley gave me my first start/ Rap connoisseur, modernized version of Mozart/ Let the corks pop on that rose and hit the ceiling/ It's wonderful existing on top, the realest feeling/ I get money, stack doe whether I rap slow/ So relaxed though, QB's finest, that's actual/ 2-5 round table messiahs my alliances/ Thoughts more complex then stem cell sciences/ Align me with the most greatest, my name will be synonymous/ [Chorus: x2] Lounged up, smokin' on good (skeeeeooooo) Whatup I'm back in the hood (skeeeeooooo) You out there grindin' every day? Getting paid, up, up n away? Me too… [Verse 2: Supraliminal] I got thoughts that make the pen explode… ready to let ‘em go/ This time around hoppin' on it with a legend though/ Either friend or foe, still check the method yo/ Still do a lil' Harlem shake up on the stepping stone/ What's a clone to a trend setter?/ Ever since I heard it's dark n' hell is hot? Had this mother f**in' vendetta/ They used to ask me “supra how u livin?”… “Aight, been better”/ Now I'm doing well and still searching for that perfect weather/ All in all though, You couldn't bench press my weakest bars/ And if I know one thing: ain't steppin' in these sneakers god/
Stay around a few intelligent hoodlums/ Who can click POP, or drop the weapons and shoot the good one/ Born sinner looking for the angel investor/ Give me that venture capital, I ain't ya typical rapper/ I'll make it happen for ya, we handle the sitch like Attica/ Hostages from Bering Sea to Africa.. BUCK BUCK get at me bruh… [Chorus: x2] Lounged up, smokin' on good (skeeeeooooo) Whatup I'm back in the hood (skeeeeooooo) You out there grindin' every day? Getting paid, up, up n away? Me too… [Verse 3: Supraliminal] Tell me how I couldn't stay hot, my pops is nice with the thermal physics/ In with the ministry, spit the sermon viciously/ Straight wacko, rap game Joe Flacco/ Act like the only cat in the league that's elite throwin' the la**o/ But on the arm strength, STAND BACK YO/ I throw here? Siberian generals gettin' hit with the shrapnel/ Mean muggings up in Queensbridge to BX/ Dungeon living and dippin' on the detecs, connects up in Quebec/ Catch a tiger by his toe on the redirect/ Always chiggity check when they demanding the respect/ A straight decade deep, veteran with the penmanship/ You late like Dave Letterman/ uhm… who I ain't better than?/ Went from pushin' dimmy sacks to a bit more, to nothing at all/ Taught myself to find a hustle, crawl back when I fall short/ Runnin' like Barry Sanders through all sport/ And trust me now I see a bit on the ball court... [Chorus: x2] Lounged up, smokin' on good (skeeeeooooo) Whatup I'm back in the hood (skeeeeooooo) You out there grindin' every day? Getting paid, up, up n away? Me too…