Marcus Smart - Spose

Bro, from the start, had the hardest bars, bitch, I’m Marcus Smart

I go hard since the magic cards make republitards

Mow my yard when I’m on the charts, I might own a shark

You peers spark from your neighbor’s car, haters, oh my God

Local star for my vocal art, stages smoke and charred

Disregard, got me broken heart, eatin' golden arch

Throw a dart, hope my phone is charged before I’m blown apart

I hope my daughters be like Joan of Arc, my son like Bonaparte, ay

Here’s a fresh batch of lies for my self-esteem

So my kids could profit off it later when I’m elderly

I thought by now, I’d stop rappin'

But I just made too much of profit off it to stop it, it has to happen

Got the best-sellin' discography, in my geography

Slow-mo snow blowers in my cinematography

Bro, what?

You want xans?

Thinkin' Speez don’t touch cheese

It’s on my hands, I’m pepperoni

My flow’s so cold, Steve Austin on the zamboni

Leave the beat yellow and purple, like, «Damn, Kobe!»

You just gotta shake me sometimes like ketchup

'cause I wanna kill bad guys like Dexter

My catalog speaks for itself, like, «Alexa

Play Spose songs so that Spose could buy the Tesla!»

Probably s’posed to be a hook there

Whoops, where?

I stole the show with the crook glare

Put it out quick like it’s cooked rare

Preferred, 'cause my words touch kids like a book fair, hold up

Look, player (whoo) this the bar type melee

My first trial, certified RIAA

I was doin' lyrical shit, they were doin' «A Bay Bay»

I guess I hit it first with my bars, I’m Ray J

Wait, hold up, Teddy

I kinda feel like I should’ve blown up heavy

Wait, you know what, Betty?

I was a young woodsman, became a grown up yeti

Feelin' like a used bullet, had my shot already

Look, promoters better hand several grand in advance

I deserve a Grammy for that album that I did with Chan

Guess it wasn’t in the plans

Still got more paper than Jim and Pam from my fans

They even got the underground shit that I did with Cam

And my signature ink imprinted on their skin

Between Instagram and Scribble Jam, I’m the patch of land

The middle man between 2Pac and Lil Xan

First in orbit, I’m John Glenn

Heavy content, every song ten, call me Sean Penn

Respond with an emoji to your extra long text

Pockets convexed, thought my run was over, not yet

More weed than a cop’s desk, man, they tryin' me

American anxiety, I wake up in a hot sweat

I hope I see it clear before I fade away

But I been runnin' shit around here, I sip some Gatorade

Since I was a minor, I’ve been pinin' for some major pay

I’ve endured a cavalcade of hate

I deserve a alligator steak, bro, run and tell your nearest

It’s the three time champion who they wanna smoke a beer with

Need a damn parade after I blow like a hand grenade

I don’t even do shit these days and I still get paid

I got the guts I never got the glory for

More risk than reward, public speakin' deep as quarry floor

Woodsy premises, my kids in my radius

I hate white supremacists, rest in peace to Alias

It’s twenty-two, I don’t fuck with you, bimp my attitude

P. Dank crew, them my bros, my dudes, oh, and Sarah too

We’ve been through, all these ups and downs, we roll though your town

Shut it down, this the people’s sound, when I’m on the mound

Strike!