(This is and direct) (Others such as myself are to carry on tradition) (Carry on tradition) static and I'm a selektah Mic 1,2,1,2 (Carry on tradition) Mic check a nigga come through keep it silent Cause we all about knowledge [Verse 1: Bada$$] Besides the fact a never been as swank as me, I like that Until I I sit patiently, so light that, I'm folding back, scroll a pack And a fatty, smokes heavy, not even over Mad I'm thinking they probably should have did before I'm on my and soaring, foreign under them heels It ain't about the Ralph though, tell your horse Don't need to grill to feel a real nigga If he can't see the light then shine still Six-figure deals with the hell, since the age of six I knew the name would ring a In six more years to wonder what the could tell That's 666 still no signs of a deal Neither did I sell myself, Records spinning by self The DJ tell myself go reflects off the reflex, before I told Flex drop that on the next New York best This sickest sound, stick around, and we for the vets now Can a nigga contest? Maybe if he put his pride aside he confess, but none the less It's fundamental, we need to fund the mental, wise with the So rise on momental, so born your inquidentials Watch who you pretend to, and put a diamond to fuel If you my conglomerate then wait I'm rocking to It's such a prominent tune, but I get my roses until I lie on my tomb (Others as myself are trying to carry on tradition) (Carry on tradition) static and I'm a selektah (This is and direct) (Carry on tradition) [Verse 2: Gibbs] (Nigga Hennesy) (Nigga Hennesy) (Nigga Hennesy) (Nigga Hennesy) my lyrical Billy Dee 45 colt Fuck the polices, they but they can't find dope If it about money and bitches, nigga what you rhyme for? Work day in my trap, make what you sign for My niggas is willing to whip that work, it's such a feeling You come in your crib and shit don't Electric, gas and water, you You like Pookie at the Carter Jumps the Jackson, this gangsta rapping, respect the father Taking it back to making them a switch off the tree Every you rap or do a show bitch I should pitch off your feet You used to 'bout goofy shit Met a G and got on some groupie A slave to my rap page, student my tutelage I'm still these boys to school As quick as I build them up, I can disassemble them Coke and cut the curriculum cousin stayed up in I was shipping this shit to The black bastard fuck lean [?] I see the bitch in Copper drop a pile on them, I'm steadily shitting on these niggas But i hit them with Freddie Cane, up the style on 'em I stretched it out to 250 he got a nine [?] night but I'm up as early as something Chopping boulders, and blowing doldgers so a couple folders Bended corners, and serving off of this motorola Sometimes you sacrifice your heart to this hard weight Thirty rounds of death from my waist, its baby scarface I got thirty rounds of death from my waist, its baby scarface nigga I got rounds of death from my waist, its baby scarface nigga (Carry on tradition) (You're and I'm a selektah) You know what I'm saying these niggas is rapping around in and shit They ain't talking no real shit they ain't really 'bout about it you