[Intro]
Yeah

[Verse]
When the beat drops, I wanna blast nothing but honest facts
When bombing tracks, that's the truth I promise that
Those who can't move on from the past will cause the genre to collapse
Yo, fuck that, I'm an iconoclast
Esteemed rapper with more heat than a sauna has
Screaming on yo' mama for raising yo' li'l awkward ass
I get you high like marijuana that's gas
But that's obvious, don't act so shocked while y’all watching a kamikaze crash
You at your max like 120 on the Honda dash
My songs are crack, I should probably run my money through the laundromat
Strong bond with cash
Feel like Daniel Craig at Casino Royale,
Guess the blonde James Bond is back
Speaking of spies, when leaving thе crib, I see sneaky paparazzi flash
I ain't fond of that, dawg, I got the Fonda pack
You would probably give your lеft nut for a concert pass
And honestly there's nothing wrong with that
I get it
I'm sick with it, bronchitis cough attack
You just think you sick, you hypochondriac
Seen a lotta spots on tour, but I always seem to wanna wander back
To big, bad Los Angeles, where the drama's at
Local flora and fauna, palm trees, lawns and grass
Squirrels, birds, couple rattlesnakes and that monster Mack
Not to mention from LeBron to Black Mamba, Shaq
Combo Magic Johnson, Wilt Chamberlain, yeah the roster’s stacked
And I ain't into sports really, I'm rarely watching that
But greatness is inspiring, so yo, you gotta honor that
And if we talking off top, then I'm the Don of that
These moves I make are special like an en passant pawn attack
Yo, I waked you out your casual slumber
Your magic castle will crumble when I blast you with thunder
I don't mean to get mathematical
But if we ranking rappers and skills are a factor
One's the only rational number for Mack
'Cause every track that he craft a slapper or slumper
Yo, we eating over here, y’all collapsing from hunger
I be making shit crack like the ass of a plumber
I'm dropping bombs on the industry
Y’all trapped in the bunker for real
How'd I gain the rhythm of masterful drummers
First, I had to become an actual drummer, practice for summers
Winters and spring, shit don't fall from the sky when you want it
Had to grow, like hydroponics, now I find it ironic
'Cause I'm high with no chronic
Touch of King Midas, I don it
Tiny atomic habits got me aligning my conscience
Mining for diamonds and grinding for profits
Deals I'm signing, pulling Gs like the type of flight that might make you nauseous
And god damn, my mind is exhausted
Hearing wack shit, I'm inclined to just pause it
Wait no, like philosopher, I'm inclined to posit
That there's no need to study the science of sonics
Fuck pretty, my shit is gritty, grimy, and noxious
And kinda demonic, so please do not refine it or polish it
Not aligning with no label, got no time for the politics
I don't need your handout, co-sign or acknowledgement
Not the type to buy into the hype and blindly just follow it
Yo