Leverage - Hot Sugar, Fat Tony, Kool AD

All I want is a house and some money to travel

A simple game putting letters together like Scrabble

Sisyphus’s lesson crushing the rock into gravel

Which of us truly trust how they knocking the gavel?

Plus though I be floating around like I’m stocking the ammo

Tucking the Glock in the camo

Fuck it, I’m lost in the channels

Surfing on surfaces, cursing in cursive and shit

Hurdling hurdles and hares

And turtles aware of the circles and squares

To a certain degree

A person you certainly see

Is certainly, certainly me

Or whatever, Kool A.D.,

Till they pulling the curtain on me

I’m Erick Sermon, the generic version

Virtually not, but I’m Parrish too

Shut the fuck up, I’ll embarrass you

Nah, don’t care, I’m so careless my dude

Yes I’m aware I’m a fool

Sexy and arrogant too

Son and the heir to nothing in any apparent view

Thought I told you like once or twice you should stare into my raps like Pun

once dared us to

And we did

Who do we kid?

Why do we do what we did when we did?

Ooh baby ooh baby shit

Groovy

You feel me?

Sit back, cold beverage, writing leverage

Coin cold

Sack of Juwan

Microphone slap it to (mom)

What kind of macking you on?

I’ve been popping

Groovy

You feel me?

Sit back, cold beverage, writing leverage

You know me, I don’t need no introduction and shit

Girl screaming «Anthony Obi, hold me!»

Like she know me, she won’t quit

Already got one holding my arm in this

But I think I’m bout to add two to the list

And I just might add you if you equipped

With some good sense, and some good teeth

And feeling free like a loose leaf, single sheet

On the beat I’m crisp like a Pringle be

I’m on 34th Street like Kris Kringle be

Just little old merry me, unmerrily

Calling up my agent, flagrant

Nigga got me sleeping on the pavement

Why the fuck you think I made this wavelength?

Ain’t tryna live in my relative’s basement

It ain’t easy being meezy, when a measly

Hundred dollars lost can make a nigga queasy

I need my full fucking feezy

Ever since I got grown, left home

Been feeling all alone like fish a la carte, bitch this is the start

Of me being a meanie to you niggas seeming teeny

You stringy like some linguini, thinking that you can see me

That seemingly might be easy but you’re quite beneath me

You’re stinky like a queef be

From a bitch that hasn’t washed for weeks

Hoes known to jock you geeks

Cause they think you so unique

But solely you’re phony and only phoning in when you speak

I’m going in on your freak, weekly and reeking of weed

Sweetly I’m sealing the deed, revealing just what she need

Like honey to bees or chickens to feed

Or money to me or A/C to a hundred degrees

I smoke nothing but trees, you are nothing to me

And while you’re living in dreams I’m reeling in reality

59 pounds on the Eurostar in France

Business Class feature Sauvignon in the glass

I don’t know French Lucy teach it when she speak

I study in the bed and I only learned «Oui!»

Swimmies in the duffle cause I’m tryna hit the beach

And I’m tired of the Rockaways, too ugly for my feet

No room for devices, leave it at the beep

The only thing magnetic is the hotel key

So baby don’t tell me that we living next week

Cause I’m feeling this week, life is feeling this sweet

What type of feeling this be?

what kind of strain is this weed?

I know you understand me since we’re on the same beat

You can hear the foreign silence ringin as I pen this verse

Moleskine with the Star Wars cover, Peroni quench the thirst

I ain’t about shit cause I recycle my outfits

Dawg, I’m walking on the outskirts of a country unknown

5 Euros a six-pack;

Victor is you with that?

My eyes rolled to the top, drop while I sit back

World’s Fair globe trotter popping on a greater scale

In the end might leave it all, that’s word to Christian Bale (Spoiler)