The Ill-Fitting Garibaldis - I Smashed A Cymbal Over My Head (And Now It Looks Like A Big Spoon) lyrics

(What more can I say?) Now you know a** is Willie When they got you in a mag For like half a billi' And your a** ain't Lilly White That mean that sh** you write must be illy Either that or your flow is silly It's both I don't mean to boast But damn if I don't brag Them crackers gonna act like I ain't on they ads The Martha Stewart That's far from Jewish Far from a Harvard student Just had the balls to do it And no I'm not through with it In fact I'm just previewing it This ain't the show I'm just EQ'n it One-two and I won't stop abusing it To groupie girls stop false accusing it Back to the music The mayback roof is translucent Ta, n***as got a problem Houston Ta ta Ta, n***as got a problem Houston For this long, this hood Or this pop is hot Or this strong With so many different flows This ones for this song The next one I'll switch up This one will get bit up These f**s To lazy to make up sh** They crazy They don't...paint pictures They just trace me You know what Soon they forget who they plucked They whole style from And try to reverse the outcome I'm like...Ta I'm not a biter I'm a writer For myself and others I say a big verse I'm only biggin' up my brother Biggin' up my Beryl I'm big enough to do it I'm that thorough Plus I know my own flow is foolish So the rings and things you sing about Bring em out It's hard to yell when the barrel's in your mouth I'm in...new sneakers, deuce seaters A few divas What more can I say? What more can I do? I give this up to you I know this much is true Moving wet off the step Purple Rain in the drought Stuntin' on hoes Brushing off my shirt But ain't nothing on my clothes 'Cept my chain My name Young H-O Pitch the yeah faithful Even if they patrol I make payroll Benz paid for Friends they roll Private jets down to Turks and Caicos Chrys' case loads I don't give a sh** n***a one life to live I can't let a day go by Without me being fly Fresh to d**h Head to toe until the day I rest And I don't wear jerseys I'm thirty plus Give me a crisp pair of jeans n***a bu*ton ups S dots on my feet Makes my cycle complete What more can I say Pickaninny I will literally Kiss Tee-Tee in the forehead Tell her please forgive me Then squeeze until your forehead I'm not the one to score points off In fact I got a joint to knock your points off What more can I say? Do? Do? I know this much is true True, true, true, true True, true, true, true I'm not the one to score points off In fact I got a joint to knock your points off Young Hoover the God n***a blast for me I'm at the "Chump International" Ask for me I ain't never scared I'm everywhere You ain't never there n***a why would I ever care? Pound for pound I'm the best to ever come around here Excluding nobody Look what I embody The soul of a hustler i really ran the street A CEO's mind: that marketing plan was me And no I ain't get shot up a whole bunch of times Or make up sh** in a whole bunch of lines The Martha Stewart That's far from Jewish Far from a Harvard student Just had the balls to do it And no I'm not through with it In fact I'm just previewing it This ain't the show I'm just EQ'n it One-two and I won't stop abusing it To groupie girls stop false accusing it Back to the music The mayback roof is translucent n***as got a problem Houston, ta-ta n***as got a problem Houston, ta-ta-ta n***as got a problem Houston, ta-ta ta-ta n***as got a problem Houston, ta-ta-ta What more can I say? What more can I do? I give this up to you You-you-you (ta-ta-ta) True! Times that by my influence On pop culture I supposed to be number one on everybody's list We'll see what happens when I no longer exist f** this What more can I say? (f** this) What more can I say? (f**-f**-f** this)