Amazing Graces

(My style's so amazing)
(I got style, flavor, grace, and plus a different technique)
I see you Preme (my style's so amazing)
Turn me up though
I need my vocals loud (I got style, flavor, grace, and plus a different technique)
This that gutter shit
That's a nice, that's a nice motherfucker shit
Playing ball at the Rucker shit, nigga

These niggas read off a script, when they see me they start to acting
School shooter, grey colt .45 when I lock the class in
Drunk nights (yeah), I would battle the Remy with lots of passion
Lost the war knowin' it was never easy to block a captain
Lean back soldier, you need crack, don't ya?
Won't let you quit, here go a fix, just relapse, won't you?
This that fatigue rap, jeans black
Green Bay jersey matching the team hat
You all need crack, so I brought Preme back (come on)
No more Mr. Nice Guy (nah), we the owners of street rap
It's hard to earn, my daily operation is bring the streets back
Everyday I go in the booth, I load up and shoot (blat)
When I step in the arena, I always seen a moment of truth
I been a gangsta
From flipping broad to prison broads, and shanks, God
No need for thanks y'all, I'm from the bottom bread
Where niggas'll twist your top like they locking dreads
Chess, not checkers your Bishop get jumped by Radames

(They say my style's so amazing)
(Style, flavor, grace)
(I got style, flavor, grace, and plus a different technique)
(They say my style's so amazing)
(Style, flavor, grace, and plus a different technique)
(They say my style's so amazing)
This is that rooftop music right here (style, flavor, grace, and plus a different technique)
That staircase shit
Yeah (they say my style's so amazing)
Let's go

My talk is a food for thought
So none other can raise the stakes, make your plate
Got no feelings, so save your amazing grace
I'm from the jungles (jungles), they knew my mother would raise an ape
Born from the bottom, it's true that the gutter don't make mistakes
I got the formula to form mula, make it euphoria (yeah)
Anarya on the run needing to creepin' to Florida
I ain't even applauding you (nah)
These two hands come together to slaughter you
No one remembers the thought of you
Visions of staircases and rooftops
And even in rare cases we shot cops
Mask off, got bare faces for new opps
(Dot, dot, dot, dot, dot) yeah
I can trigger the worst when I come up big in a verse
You can hear the traces of Tupac (baby)
We deep in the trenches, but so poised
I realize the emptiest of minds make the most noise
We dope boys, but move so meticulous
Belichick drawing plays for viciousness
Now you know what the mission is, nigga