It goes 'a:
One..
Two...
Three.
I was born with the hunger of a lion / the strength of a sun.
I don't need to sweat it when a competition come.
Original style like an 808 drum,
So I don't run the track, no / I make the track run.
My mama taught me words / my daddy built rockets.
I put 'em both together now, tell me what I got.
It's a pretty smart weapon,
I can shoot it, I can drop it.
But learn to respect it 'cause you clearly can't stop it like that!
It ain't over 'cause the
Shark's on the left side / the snake's on the right.
And anything you do, they wanna get a little bite.
It really doesn't matter if you're wrong or if you're right.
Cause once they get their teeth in / nothing really fights.
And as for me, I do it like I got nothing to lose.
And you can run your mouth like
You could try to fill my shoes, but
Steady little solider, I ain't standing next to you.
wrong
words
witted
while
weapon
until
money
anything
mistakes
morning
iller
picture
getcha
store
flesh
fights
deliver
learn
waves
rising
dream
blackout
smart
competition
playing
little
bring
could
laying
block
firing
chance
ground
switch
bends
bells
impostors
again
monkey
against
crying
early
brainwash
sliver
people
separate
matter
together
coming
shore
truth
kingdom
break
really
breaks
respect
standing
gotta
built
quick
clearly
wanna
pants
daddy
mouth
obsolete
shoes
poppa
pretty
rockets
saying
shake
styles
right
shoot
taught
tough
hunger
sings
strength
sleep
original
squad
before
solider
something
steady
tripping
style
quiver
sucker
sweat
grind
teeth
creep
their
crash
three
banksy
cause
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