Reaper Talk Lyrics

Yeah, uh, check it

Call me Mr. Yogi, bed hot, crop pop with the blick

Cook it quick, like fish and grits

Wake and bake on a Sunday tip, Saturday icy drip

TGIF, Corona sick, my snorkels have you leanin' like Corona sick

Had your mind goin' like a Thursday shift

Hump day, Wednesday slick, forgot your name and your Tuesday tip

Stole sneakers out your cell on a Monday, hit with the ice pick

The blick, my wordplay is sick, it's God's gift

Master of flows, I'm trained to go natural, dawg, how I flow

I'm hot, though, from the land of gangsta rap

True fact, when MTV first was at

And disrespectin', get your Chris Rock slaps

And get you rocked like the beams with the contracts

So don't get boot-backed, cause that click-tack'll push your fitted back

In the back like Rosa Parks, Nat Turner

Let the cannon spark thorough with heart, tearin' these dudes apart

Yeah

But check me out, though

Yeah

Hundred stacks, I did that

Stock market, option trading, stips your hat

Cause I transitioned from streets to corporate rap

Wallow just like that, got a million dollars to my name

No paper, just honor to maintain

In real life, that's the game

Reppin' your name fucks the fame

Stack up your change from a quarter to a dollar

Knowledge is power, power of respect

That's how you get a check

Yeah