J. Cole — Bref Control

[Intro] Yo, let me tell you 'bout a crew I know The crash unit had to come and steal the show Whenever nervous wrecks and therapists come To take you back, you know the job ain't done And I know, oh yes, I know, I know because I'm Therapist son Yo, check this out At the high house Work, yo [Verse 1] I appeal to the criminal minds You've been blinded, this shit is so timeless You need to open your eyes, you cat-napping My squad blasts tracks, see proof, back tracking (Therapist) Now what you know about ill flows, you not go (Ah) You'se a suck off, bitch I'm a hard stroke Etching my name in the payments so mistake forever I'm paying dues, make more moves than the game of checkers (Checkers) So get your back sticks And when you come here, act like you have sense Don't talk out your ass bitch My raps is classic and crafted, I know the ropes Sucker MC's never make it up the totem pole Who knows and goes Crash, you niggas starving now Any faggot talking out his ass, better crumble down 'Cause I'm all about drama, my crowd too big to swallow So trust me, when my mood swings, my pistol follow What? After all weight turns out Tools get burned out, your rhymes is run out I immediately come out raw, ready to blast out (Birds) Don't boast my roast, my very last nerve I give the last word and the last how, ha Tryna laugh past you, rap asses Now sit back, relax and jack your safety buckles The caskets tryna make me stumble, they just make me chuckle I hate to break your bubble but I'm the freshest Don't even try to test this You only touch kids that's child molesters, I'm a lesson Cat's like you, dime a dozen, you just play hard Panic rapping, just don't quit your day job My rap control is insane when I say rhymes These goon walls can't hold a flame to mine And as an MC on this dope record Time that we break for a second [Interlude] (Man speaks) [Verse 2] Yo, break is over, we taking over Let's ride through your home spot, I be the controller You can't grab hold of Your catch is field mice, I'll be King Cobra The ride of rude rebels, at level fifteen The ends boosted up to ten, you know what I mean It seems you got some bitch within you My peoples stare down the whole damn venue Not a part, not a fractional so what Crackled ceilings and crumbled walls Long terrain, immune to the pain We save enough, y'all putting money down in vain You ain't no big dawg, no pay day You pay, them hoes pop, you get your wig peeled You ain't no big dawg, you not no big dick You paid, them hoes po, you get your wig picked You pray my logo, I heard you pitch well You tryna bug out, I sit still Yo, I feel like you should both come to terms Even though I can't smah up your concerns Hypothetically or in reality Taking you out, is a small technicality Rhymes like these or rhymes like this up While I diss 'em, soft, silly, low budget sucker like yourself I got the style, you couldn't eat at my household I labeled it sucker boy style I like to do it once in a while [Outro] (Static speaking)