Supastition - Yada Yada lyrics

rate me

It's the return of your recurring nightmare

Southern messiah who only rock the flyest Nike Airs

Industry black sheep trying to fight being typecast

Screaming NC 'til they put me in that white casket

It’s the day of reckoning, I'm the wrecking ball when the record spins

Since the quest recommend, I've counted consecutive wins

Been in so many cities you would think I teleport

Keep fans eyes bulging out like Tracee Ellis Ross

Read between the lines, I define unsung

Continue to son dumb niggas 'til the funds come

And anybody trying to stop the agenda

Will see I got a hotter temper than a mafia member

I rapped alongside Crooked I, Phonte, Elzhi

They look at I, reply "he's no Kanye sales-wise"

Keep it one hundred when others respond and tell lies

I'm humble, keep my head screwed on and held high

I never let the fame command me, I've seen it turn

Righteous niggas into Amos and Andy, jigaboos

Hip hop's my humble abode, I treat it like royalty

But these young boys, they be pissing all on the toilet seats

Disrespecting legends, someone call the board of ethics

These dudes ¼ skill and three quarters reckless

Yelling 'bout the legendary, legend what?

You don't even measure up to the Kanes and the Lord Finesses

Now everybody screaming they the king, yada yada

They making outlandish claims and nobody's bothered

Tell them fools stay in their lane, they out of order

Don’t make me grab one of these young lames by the collar

Before you ever spend money on anybody's product

Find out if they're about integrity or 'bout a dollar

Somebody gotta tell it like it is so Mr. Moye

Came back to kill the villains and fill in the missing void

Sorry to disappoint those who didn't miss the voice

Continue ignoring me like normally there is a choice

Let the rest rejoice

Never test your boy, I keep liquid swords in my reservoir

Metaphors, similes, double entendres

The bars stay consistent as the Baltimore crime rate

Slaughtering beats when I record report 'em deceased

Fuck a critic, skins thicker than a Nautica fleece

Got your girl on all fours, how about some hardcore

Like a horny Nautica Thorn in a porno release

Got her performing for me while you wasting time in the studio

Pretending to be some kind of king in a Coogi robe

I undress beautiful ladies without the loot to show

Quicker than a 60's hippie can have a doobie rolled

Ask me to do a show, you better have the show deposit

Or point promoters to the exit with the door revolving

Now you can say it's good promotion for me, yada yada

And this gone put me in the ranks with the hottest artists

But before I am a rapper, I'm somebody's father

And you always get what you paid for - nada nada

Yada yada, the yada yada

It's still Supastition, nigga!