[ Featuring Step Brothers ]
Right or wrong is not the question
The question, who remains in this profession?
It's the same as it ever was and will be
The game might change but
The players still filthy
For real, fill it up till that cup runneth
(Over) i got a weak stomach
Throwin' it up and keep gunnin'
Gin rummy, king of the deck, I go dummy
What's a king with respect and
No money? I think hungry
You got a hunch, go fish like you never choke
I'm out to lunch at dinner
Like you never smoke i never quote
"It's the best that I ever wrote"
But everyone sealed the same in the envelopes
I send notes out, clearin' the coast out
Appear then disappearin' in a ghost town
I get ghost now, the job is done
From 1-0-4-5-6 to 9-0-2-9-1 (It's magic)
Of a kind, I'm original, could short cuts
Custom Doctor Romanelle stitched
Drap the windows of the tour bus
Money moves, Ebenezer Scrooge, Daddy Warbucks
Press a button in the Delorean
Lift the doors up make 'em dance
Aim for the Bally and hit the floors up
Bum rappers kneel, before Zod
I put my hand on a stack
Of Bibles and swore to God
To move the crowd like a bomb scare
Every time you hear me speak on a
Record I raise the arm hair
Full throttle, celebration bottle, don pair
Bundles in the tux
Fold it up like a lawn chair
Turn over the pillow, pimp guerillo
When I'm finished I scrap the
Plate with the Brillo
Saran wrap over the kilo
Then I split open a cigarillo
And blow the success outta the window
It's magic
