H.A.R.D.

We met each other on a magazine cover
Its like God told us we had to be brothers in this rap music
Never f*ckin with beat makers, just the (Heatmakerz)
We makin (Crack music)
All hail the king, Im back
This time around Im coming to get it all
Bigger in the hood than Fentanyl
Yeah, Im killin yall
Porsche with the ceilin off
Pink blacker than the skin of Senegal
Im night crawling like Jake Gyllenhaal
All independent though, but you cant tell by the way Im spendin though
Out here talkin slick as the kitchen floor
Yall rock aluminum cans, your jewelrys Michelob
Mine got em green with envy, these n*ggas Piccolo
Pick a flow
I smack a rapper with a lyric thatll hit em harder than that n*gga Riddick Bowe
Then go, go and let critics know
Crooked came up on food stamps, he knew hed be a champ
Now the Louis V is stamped on my boot clamp
B*tches know, they wave when I smash past
Try to flag me down like the Star-Spangle at half-mast
My money was young, I didnt have cash
Now Im like the comedian headlining: I knew Id get the last laugh
Really though
Ive been way too humble for way too long
And I think its time you know what it takes me to sing these songs
Sometimes I just wanna take my ball and go home
Cause if I want it bad enough I might have to go alone
Really though
Yeah, brother, been a ride since that cover
From the hood to seeing the whole world with one another
With two other motherf*ckers among us: the four sluggers
To this day we break the internet, we talk to each other
Maybe one day well reunite at Coachella
Til then its just me and my dawg, ho yella
Joell is just a fresh pawn teller from the jects with d*pe sellers
War vests and chrome metal would ejecto whole melons
Was a mess in front of the buildin
Im mindin my business, bumpin that Audio Two
Sippin my Yoo-hoo milk, I was chillin
Buffalo hat top billin, man, give me credit
I survived in a era where Starter would get you ended
It was cool to get love but still move with your snub
Cause that 8-ballll have you playin pool full of blood
Fast forward, just bought a billiard room in a club
Chalk it up to how I still be in these booze with the drugs
The Yaowa
Like the most potent, sour, diesel flower, crushed with the cocoa leaf
Man, thats a high-powered powder
Like how the f*ck can the sound of me have you both down
And up together like the staircase I came outta?
I amounted to more than any coward fingers could count up
I got bullets for haters and a trigger for doubters
Two Sig Sauers become a headache
Theyll leave you right over the counter near all the sunflower seeds
Sour Powers, and Now and Laters
Now the neighbors wave, they see me come down the block
I member my shop teacher telling me stop with the beatbox
Lunch table hip hop, Im a flop, he failed me
20 years later, look whos settin up shop
Really though
Ive been way too humble for way too long
And I think its time you know what it takes me to sing these songs
Sometimes I just wanna take my ball and go home
Cause if I want it bad enough I might have to go alone
Really though