Royce da 5'9" - Son Of Greg lyrics

Son of Greg, child of God
Eyes closed off cause I'm trying to decide
How to coincide with father time
Then my eyes go wide
Cause I'm trying to tightrope walk
On my bottom line
Same time I'm trying to fight those thoughts
This is how a psycho talks
I'm cut like that, so why throw salt
I'll beat your ass then step on your glasses
Mazel tov it's not a threat
No it's a promise and you hoes
Know it's death before dishonor
Oh they sleeping on me now?
Their narcoleptic soul, this tech will blow
They whole set can go pajamas
My think tank is infested with piranhas
Everybody else's dress code is Giuseppe I
Guess I'll go with Yves-Saint Lauren
I'm the reason why your lady's
Been displaying odd behavior
She said call her later, why?
Cause I'm inside the broad
Head like Charles Xavier
Thoroughbred millionaire with a
Billionaire mind state flyin' down to MIA
We at KOD, you throwing
Singles I'm throwing Stephenson's, lances
I call them that cause I
Blow em' in Bron's face
Then leave them on the dancers
Wait til' the lights come on
Wave to a light come on
Then leave and go to mansions
But I'ma leave the rich nigga
Talk to those who put faith in the dollar
And hold little grudges
And I'ma move on and blow bigger budgets
Talking in cold while thinking I'm cold
Hoes really love it
My old soul trying not to
Be the sober nigga judging
In retrospect I was a different beast
I switched the wine a few
Different times trying to
Slow down like "Let me sip and see"
Thats not sobriety, thats a called a problem
Thats like being inside a car
That caught on fire
And all you do is switch your seat
And this is me, take me as I am
Or leave me as you saw me
Where you liked me last
Believe me that i'm sorry that your
Sorry ass can't comprehend these bars
Through all these new cars
And this viking mask
This is the memory of the 20 year old
Version of me like my wifey's past
The big fish in the small pond forever trying
To calm down my big brothers pisces ass
Telling me about these niggas
Talking about me
And how come I bite my tongue
I said "Bro these niggas is weak to me"
I rather let them do all their wrong in
The dark then have to right my sun
Write my son, that shit is deep to me
Often with writing I be in awe when
My thoughts are composed while laying song
If I never would of took that first drink I
Probably would be playing the Game of Thrones
With Marshall and Hov but this ain't no HBO
Season this is take your ho season
In order to cheat death you gotta
Either respect me, friend me
Or pray for your beating if
Theres tension between us
And I sense that I'm swinging
I don't wait for
No reason, I was raised by Cool J
Cube and Jesus
You was raised by new shades, Fuse
And a pair of shoes made by yeezus
Now beat it before I serve you immorally
I'll show you that theres no
Correlation between murder and maturity
I'm the Son of Greg, the child of God