PRhyme - Courtesy lyrics

Yo, where the other one at? I like this one
Just let it go, Preem

Z06 'Vette, grippin', feelin' almost there
Listenin' to Bon Jovi
Rollin' "Livin' on a Prayer"
Privy to the gossip that's been
Said about me constant
It's the life and times of
"Bumpy" Johnson meets "Nucky" Thompson
I used to rap about death
Now I'm only concerned to live
I value relationships
Still I keep it competitive
Nowadays, chances are that if you
See me throw the match
It ain't to lose the fight
It's to walk away from a burnin' bridge
I'm from a family of
Alcoholics and coke addicts
Daddy taught me if the ass is so fat
It's a fact that if you with your ho
Don't matter
It's still appropriate to scope at it
Livin' life with no balance
Drivin' drunk on co-pilot
Drivin' 'til I total it
I'm tryna stay afloat
But I got nobody to throw a rope at it
The game is just a game of
Split's and politics wit' no ballot
All kind of clips with
Mo' malice than pushin' if you profilin'
There'll probably be more
Violence than lookin'
I'm so stylish, but I ain't talkin' eBay
No high-end fashion either
If you catch me by the runway it's
The one that's for the PJ
This one is for my lyricists
Courtesy of my DJ
(I can't control it, can't hold it
It's so nuts)
(Hustle hard in any hustle that you pick)
(I, I, I respect that)
I done had a lot of niggas
Say they wanna hurt me
Somehow, some way they just end
Up at my mercy just show some courtesy
(Hell yeah, nigga, you know
And niggas still got it, Believe that shit)

I got killers 'round the way ready
To move that work for me
Niggas wanna ride my wave
Bitches wanna surfboard me
All I want is courtesy
Who cares 'bout the radio?
And you could take the cassette deck
From off of your old boombox
And it wouldn't matter
There's still squares on your radio
To keep your wealth I learned
To stay to yo'self i call for Charl
Tell him spray paint a mural in Watts
Of me spray paintin' a mural of Miracle Watts
Shout-out to Michael "5000" Watts
I'm on that lean movement like
I'm out here tryna box
Look, nigga, this is a boss thing, uh
Meanin' you gettin' the laze'
Dot to your offspring i'm a lost bein', uh
Try to cross me without fallin' off
I'm afraid not
I'm a frayed knot like a draw string
I'm preachin' to the congregation
Like I'm Peter Popoff
If you can imagine me hopping
Up out of the cabin
Like I'm one of the dukes of Hazzard like
"Fuck it"
Leave the top off like time for foreplay
That last line that was before your time
Like Big Ben sittin' in Beyoncé doorway
While I'm receivin' Four Seasons
Norwegian top in Norway
Listenin' to rappers kick knowledge
That they probably got from Touré
These Michael Eric Dyson niggas
Claiming they king
Not knowing the kind of drama that that bring
I'm a be the first established
Rapper to hop in
That battle rap ring Turn that to Gatlin'
My next album gon' be so dark and so fly
I should see the package
It wrapped in batwings
These Soul Train Music Award actors
Rock fake as wrestlin'
Dressed bottom to top in leather
Lookin' like bacon in Vaseline
How you looking like beef jerky?
Beefin' in every verse
But never beefin' in person?
Randy Savage, you wouldn't snap a Slim Jim
You wouldn't rip a wrappin' on
Christmas in Santa's attic
Wit' the hands of Eddie
Scissors and you average
Put your motherfuckin' hands up
My job is to move the crowd
Move the motherfuckin' crowd
Put your motherfuckin' hands up

I respect that