Oncue - Friends lyrics

Sorry this ain't back pack
Sorry this ain't frat rap
This might seem abstract
All I got are sick lines
It's Anthrax on Amtrak
We about to win I said
"Where the fuck those hands at?"
Your girl and her friends?
I don't know what do wit em
No one taken our lane
See we Drivin drunk taken up two of em
I didn't move out to Brooklyn to be a hipster
Moved to Brooklyn to see the big picture
Only when you leave
Thats when they wanna miss ya
But when your there for 'em
All they wanna do is diss ya
And never call you again
If you don't deliver so let's sip the elixir
Call the waitress and tip her
Don't hit me on Twitter
When you see me getting bigger
I don't no more friends
All I want are those figures
See the thing is, all they doing is imitating
But down the road they fuckin themselves
It's masturbation they ain't real
They ain't real - see It's only entertainment
They ain't in the streets
If they're backs laying on the pavement
Talk shit, it ain't me - But
I do it on occasion
And I'm cockin back and aiming
At all y'all who's lamin
Claimin fame goin down the drain
Man, You ain't shit
You a dame, only a stain see me I'm the shit

I can see through your bullshit
Running in the air
And I don't really care cause all I need
Is real people
And real music and real people
And no I don't want new friends
Cause, I don't wanna feel like
I have to pretend cause all I need
Is real people
And real music and real people

They say "Cuey, Mr onCue you smooth as silk"
Meanwhile I'm sippin black coffee
Can't afford milk
They be sweatin me tellin me I'm a pimp
But the only thing In my
Pockets is wrappers and lint
She couldn't do it, neither could she
Neither could this jager
Neither could this weed every weekend I rage
Wake up Sunday facing minimum wage
Shit I need to get paid
Last night I got laid
But what did it do for me?
Except, I don't gotta click
On YouPorn this morning
I'm torn between tourin and dormin
And soarin to the top
My father always said "shit" or
"get off the pot!"
This whole time I wasn't bitin'
I was writin for the enlightened
So when you smell my shit
Is when I start wipin
I've been steadily, heavenly on my grind
So when time I either shine
Or go lose my mind

Can you tell these other rappers
I'ma fuck the game backwards
Go ahead pigeon hole me
Homie you don't even know me
You ain't competition you a cronie
Of a bum, mama look what I've become
They googlin me like crack heads
Look at your youngest son
So stop with the comparisons
Don't know what they talkin bout yeah
They Sarah Palin and I realize these
Rappers suck they own dick manson, Marilyn
Your girls doing my work at the Sheridan
I ain't being arrogant, I got soul in me
It's been apparent since
They wanted to buy me out like Merrill Lynch
I ain't forfeiting some flowers and
A coffin in a Hearse
Would be more fitting than this
White collar ball licking
Wake up and look at the life we're all living
You can't trust no one any far
As you could throw em
Watch me crash down as I
Move up on this totem
Nah I don't know 'em I told'em
Yeah I swore I fucking told'em like