Lyrics

KEMBA

I do this all day…hustle the hard way…this how I ball k…heavy guard play…I feel like Kemba mixed with a little Simba…chop the mic some timber…I’m colder than last December.

Yo I hear it’s that time, for real men to kill the mic you hear that flat line; fat rhymes, circle all the time in this black mind, don’t lack grind; just lacking opportunities to shine like a waxed dime.
I’m in pursuit of getting loot; every single dollar that I deserve I must recoup.
These rappers only talk about birds, here’s chicken soup; watch your mouth Brodie promise I’m hot, I’ll burn your tooth.
I’ve been snapping since youth I am the truth; Paul Pierce will even say that I’m fierce, I scare the booth.
These rappers only talk about bricks and toting sticks, I predict that I’m so Michael Vick when making hits.
I’m fly like a falcon, flow like water fountains. I’m pouncing on top of the cheese then I’m bouncing.
Who’s vouching, I blow it by ounces; who’s counting that’s just what I do the pressure’s mounting.

They say the broken never finish first; on my momma I’m a break the curse.
They popping perks, So I really can’t relate to jerks; I feel their pain, but there’s better ways to ease the hurt.
I hate to preach, but my friends feeling out of reach; the longest limbs couldn’t touch them caught up in the streets.
Plenty beef, so the farmers never see the peace; feel like its Greece middle east, never poke the beast.
I’ll soak your seat, hot as Myrtle Beach; flyer than a Geese, high off chronic leaf.
I got a vision like I’m Stevie Wonder; all of this pressure that you see me under.
I’ll never crumble, I’m remaining humble; that’s just how it be shout out Mr. Bumble.
Jermz ready to rumble like macho man; I’m just a kid with

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