Add-2 - Git Your Hand Out My Pocket Lyrics

My brothers and sisters
I come before you today to give you a message
Yes, yes I have been selected here to give you a message
A Message given to me from the most high
The message is
The end is near

Get your hand out my pocket
Get your hand out my pocket
Get your hand out my

My penmanship make ships sink then I'm sailing out
Your crews just selling out
Write letters I'll spell it, address you and then mail it out
Outsmart them, I'm brainstorming, break your umbrellas out
How long will my reign last? I'm hungry but aint fast
You slow, ain't catch it like dropped passes, I'm passing the flash
Glass half empty, I'm a pessimist how I show them the bad side
This guy so nice I finish in last, that's why
That's why I'm ahead of my time, our hands touch digits,
Take a couple minutes and you'll get it
I came back for seconds
I told you I was hungry in the 5th bar
I'm on my shit yall
Start eating and split it with niggas starving with ya
Study like scholars I'm still smart them Harvard niggas
I make figures for niggas who need father figures
Who follow niggas who follow niggas,
Quick to lick a shot after taking a shot of liquor
The bottle hollow I hear you holler, the hollow hit ya like DAMN
We lose heads, like the sleepy hollow
Get caught sleeping and your wake is sure to follow
My uncle like 60 he still play lotto
He told me life is a gamble that shit his favorite motto
Throwing a paradise is like a paradise
I'm lowkey like barry white... wait
That key low, don't bury white... weight
No dope, play my songs in the key of life
My vision darker, off the wall like I'm peter parker
No Bret Hart, a sharp shooter you can be the target
You'll need a coffin, I kill it, sick can you hear me coughing
They always say I'm in rare form I do it often
I beg your pardon I sell ticks I could play in Boston
I found myself tryna find myself in these beats im lost in
Lost ones, thinking they can guard son?
Nah son, cross em like God's son
Jesus, Got more game than shuttlesworth
What it's worth my homey pouring syrup like its buttersworth
Fighting addiction I pin point the affliction
My pen points to the page, I draw blank bet you still feel it
I paint a picture niggas still don't get the vision yet
You could amputate my foot I still wouldn't miss a step
Chillin in the cut I got the scissor set,
Sizzling the skillet food for thought I'm the kitchen chef
Sick as sickle cell, flow is ice but I ain't slipping yet
Anybody thinking they can write with me getting left
Better chill with your weak ass
I'm watching all the games they playing like a league pass
Got my fam eating good this the repass
Never had a sega but I always had a dream cast
In the 'Chi' niggas passing more than steve nash
Never hear a sound we like the forest when the tree crash
These forces tryna finish us
Forcing my hand, one eye open like forest whitaker,
Run it like forest, fakes can't kill us they ain't real enough
Still stealing, biting my lines like I aint reel enough
This motherf*cker rhyme out his motherf*cking mind
But no matter what you do don't waste my motherf*cking time

Oh yea
Get your hand out my pocket, stop it
Get your hand out my pocket, stop it
Stop it
Get your hand out my

But smile you are about to die