[B.o.B]
 You know who it is without a doubt of hesitation
 If money talks I got my masters in communication
 But you can’t hold a conversation
 Probably find me burning something good you can call that smoking aces
 Compliment the chef in the lab making greatness
 Ain’t a thing changed but the number on the statement
 NBA resume, baller’s my occupation
 Kush so loud I can’t hear what was you saying
 Praise yo solo that the freaks in the backseat
 Get a thrill off the alpine when it vibrate they ass cheeks
 I’m Bobby Ray baby an all american athlete
 I run and leap and jump and like a track meet
 Yeah that ought to do it
 Give it that Carl Lewis
 I got the magic baby call me George Lucas
 I’m so prolific but my flow’s so foolish
 These niggas making moves my niggas making movies wait

[Playboy Tre]
 Wile like a crazy mic
 Clean like a baby wipe
 Y’all just a momma boy sleeping with a baby like
 My ex say I’m a dick cause my mind frank cocky
 Up in Beninhan’, drunk, drinking all the sake
 Damn right I want a double fried rice
 I’m getting bread I put my dick up in your face
 Your face’ll look like Stuarts head
 Girls call me Tre day
 I’m looking for pay day
 My squad’s got more bottle poppin’ niggas than the AA
 Liquor and wheelbarrow foolish as Will Ferrell
 But I ain’t got a step brother, I f-ck your step mother
 I cussed cause I like it bitch
 F-ck hoe mutherf-cker
 You mad cause I’m balling, life is a mutherfcker
 Your son is a leprichaun so hater live life a little
 New shit dropping soon “Patron & Instrumental”
 It’s tre, my flow won’t quit til I say it ends

[B.o.B]
 Eastside on my arm, 3 stripes on my sneakers
 Don’t roll with p-ssy niggas, we call them vajeenas
 That’s why your girl choosing dawg, pray I never meet her
 I tap her on the head and tell her you know the procedure
 You just mad with no bitch cause I’m chilling with your bitch
 She through out your mixtape but she knows my whole disc
 My flow’s sick, I’m a poet, Edgar Allan Poe shit
 Haters be getting defensive like 4th down and show blitz
 But I don’t punt it, I run it for a hundred
 Ever since I was a young ‘un, been hungry as Paul Bunyon
 I’m the shit so fix the plumbing
 I’ma beast and the game’s you
 And if this ain’t what you call hip-hop it must be bungee jumping
 I’m smoking on hydroponic some of you call that chronic
 Hennessey in my vomit cause the night before jumpin’
 Lil C got that beat bumping so you can hear me coming
 And my name’s Bobby Ray, Eastside of the A just incase anyone was wondering bitch

[Meek Mill]
 Oohh I’m a matherf-cking beast
 All my haters rest in peace
 I make a hundred on the Monday and go hard the rest of week
 Pray on niggas like a Sunday
 See your artist that’s a feast
 I got like 30 in the chalk I let you p-ssies catch a piece
 It was me and old melly? in the Scaglietti
 Bout to scoop these bitches cause they say they past ready
 Swagger on the finish, I think I’m Andretti
 I push it to the limit get ‘em haters gassed heavy
 Wait a minute I’m a menace
 Shout out to the winners
 Jacket boy Louies like a flag before the finish?
 I’m just getting started and niggas at they end
 And errbody say I’m hot but I’ve been hot from the beginning
 I be with a bitch that looks like Kim Kardashian
 She aint on these niggas not by purpose but by accident
 Big ?, you niggas relaxing
 And the main reason I’m passing em like Michael Vick Im faster than yo quarter back
 I bring that order back
 Aint f-ckig with that weed, like where that water at
 Like where them purps nigga
 Somebody order that
 Caught a couple cases, went to jail but I aint going back
 FREE TIP!<br />
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			     Thanks to r