Left over,
Some best vocals to let them off of my head,
I'm on my metamorphosis to best,
I focus like I'm threading a needle with my rhymes.
I'm peeing with precise aim from the heights,
It's hitting the water closet,
You picking the fight and you loosing,
You thinking you pirate class,
You think you got pyroclastic flow,
You need private class from me,
You just a fiber glass without a core, or pore to sweat
You say you coldest with a flow full of holes loaded,
You got them hoes all over the scene,
You see profit it in flex,
You five foot or less,
You sound like a midget wanna grow no offense,
I sound like the F - word inside your fence,
That's Fear or Family you can decide what I'm in,
I say you leave me to myself and my family and let me write my songs,
I'm not harm, I'm defense.
(Chorus)
What Economy,
I don't know shit about shit,
But I'm not for sale,
You call it criminal offence
But I'm about to say
What I want
What Economy,
I don't know shit about shit,
But I'm not for sale,
You call it criminal offence
But I'm about to say
What I want
Step over a bit more closer forward.
Trips over,
You bit my toe to forehead,
I trip over your testing kit for Covid,
It's all over even replica's are on and,
Pissed off as I grudge to pay for all this,
Blissed out,
I can't rest too much to write in,
Messiah can't sit and see the rioting.
He might come down anyhow we'll find him.
Oh maybe no shake hand with ladies,
They ask me if I'm straight,
180,
My baby knows, my stage is lost,
My Cape or ball it is in top of your bowel,
My capabilities they come from above,
My paper for thesis, they never can bore,
Might pay for these speakers, cannot afford,
My crave for these eateries leaking me, I'm on D.I.E.T
(Chorus)
What Economy,
I don't know shit about shit,
But I'm not for sale,
You call it criminal offence
But I'm about to say
What I want
What Economy,
I don't know shit about shit,
But I'm not for sale,
You call it criminal offence
But I'm about to say
What I want
Myths over the facts? You sober?
I got doubts on you man,
Now I call myself SOBA,
Son Of Barbaric Aid with my lyrics you know that,
I'm a graffiti drawn with a half litre bucket full of talent,
You lucky little brat you still lacking,
You lachrymating waiting for protagonist with napkins,
You tapping out insane,
You packing simultaneously,
Time to time you ditched me,
I think think it's time to kiss me goodbye,
I ain't leaving, you are,
Believe me,
You wanted,
You have it,
Your hustle was nothing,
You cussing for not having a car or four meals,
My hustle was walking all the way,
Had no wheels,
No means, nothing,
Still my pen move up and down,
Till I drawn I spit facts,
If cover was game you're bikini I'm purdah,
Sit back boy
(Chorus)
What Economy,
I don't know shit about shit,
But I'm not for sale,
You call it criminal offence
But I'm about to say
What I want
What Economy,
I don't know shit about shit,
But I'm not for sale,
You call it criminal offence
But I'm about to say
What I want