The Shakedown - CASUAL

I could give a fuck who honey kissin'

Money missin' makes me turn to Sonny Liston

Mercenary on a mission, enter intuition

Conditioned, for all the bullshit you’re dishin'

I’m about as hard as the times

I make mines off rhymes and keep dimes to blow in the wind chimes

A Hieroller, you die young, I die older

Cy Young holder for throwing this heat

The air brung my tongue is shellac’n the blood of the wack

It sharpens when I cut up the track, it darkens

My crew is recon, who is he, Jon?

All in your bitch Louis Vuitton for doin' me wrong

Pursuin' me to put two in me?

Won’t happen like crowds booin' me, MC fabulous

Just bust for a century mo'

With ammo and dough in my peripheral, here we go

You in analog, digital, 8-track cassette deck

Or on your little karaoke stereo

You get hands put on you

And DM my plans to all provide two or three hot ones in ya potnas

Huey P., Harriett Tub', carry the weapon

But y’all niggas scary as fuck and

I’m luck up, tucked up, in the Bay Area cuts, like what…

(«It's my thing»)

Ay, I could give a fuck who honey kissin'

Money missin' makes me turn to Sonny Liston

Mercenary on a mission, enter intuition

Conditioned, for all the bullshit you’re dishin'

I could give a fuck who honey kissin' («Hey»)

Money missin' makes me turn to Sonny Liston

Mercenary on a mission, enter intuition

Conditioned, for all the bullshit you’re dishin'

My rap attracts and re-enacts the facts

That’s just part of the art of the rhyme tactics

Get checked over the ice, I hit hat tricks

Hit 'em in the right spot in they head and they hit back… flips

My rap give orbits to atlas

And balance with the stakes that shakes the rattlers

Trees in a chalice, seeds in nursery school

And I’m still a father figure to all you niggas

Who test the finesse of the fest or rest collective

Poetics, poppin' from the proper perspective

What’s your mission?

Boy, listen

Do too much more dissin', you’re meetin' the mortician

Stepped on and trampled for tryin' to gamble

I’m a prime example of a rhyming cannibal

Razor sharp dart, beams, and lasers

Aimed at your neck, to break off the ice glaciers

I use reflectors on your motion detectors

Stealthy, trained and wealthy

Gamed and ready to take names, check Zodiac

I’m like Shaq, when I’m rockin' the mic, don’t react

(«It's my thing»)

I could give a fuck who honey kissin' («Hey»)

Look, money missin' makes me turn to Sonny Liston

Mercenary on a mission, enter intuition

Conditioned, for all the bullshit you’re dishin'

I could give a fuck who honey kissin' («Hey»)

Money missin' makes me turn to Sonny Liston

Mercenary on a mission, enter intuition

Conditioned, for all the bullshit you’re dishin'

I could give a fuck, haha