Joey Bada$$ 1h2t6q

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    Blooming Blossoms (Flowers pt. 1) 2k2e3x

    Joey Bada$$ 1h2t6q


    Now
    If I ain't know no better
    I could have been sucked right up into the setup
    But I kept my head up
    And every time I fell I would get up
    See I don't need no nines and berettas
    I kill with the lines and the letters
    with the verbs and the nouns
    Just a kid trying get his sound heard around

    Jump into cyphers and keep the old timers astounded
    They said he was the best in the surroundance
    Cause everyone around him was drowinin'
    In the fair one, no one son could pound him
    With the lyrics, you pray you hear it
    They said it's bad hood credit, imagine good spirit

    And one day his mom and dad
    Will be cheerin' to his grammy nomination
    And proclamation to his world domination
    Inauguration into greatness
    From making rations to cakin'
    2 Am and he be up like attic
    He's an addict, alarm clock pop, he back at it

    Barely got any sleep
    But, he gotta eat
    Cause ain't shit cheap and his soul sole torned out of feet
    He got dreams, but don't plan on sleeping
    until he reach 'em
    Until you out feastin', paying houses where you sleep in
    Until his album ready and his fans
    Get it leaking just for sneak peaks and
    Until then, his home is the booth
    He spittin' to the plaque it's poof off his tooth

    Like hocus pocus
    Or word he's too focused
    You should quote it
    His goal is the denial that he wrote it
    Flowin' like oceans and menstruals
    Ink from the pen, lies within my credentials
    They told me that I could be mental
    But momma always said that I was special
    Haters tell me I should stop

    My enemies tryin' see me in the box
    So the streets tell me to cop a glock and pop it
    But something down deep tells me I'm the next prophet
    Like the new muhammad or the new marcus garvey
    Or probably, it makes sense why I'm so heavily guarded
    Wait, no, please restart it
    I'm heavenly guarded, it's the golden child and for a while

    God been looking down with a smile
    Watchin' me prosper
    Attackin' with the raps and then conquer
    The junior frank sinatra, rapping out the opera
    You should spectate in the booth with a suit and binoculars
    Like nigga it's a honor, it's motherfuckin' honor

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