Better Execution (feat. Bumpy Knuckles)

I want better etiquette But more than anything, I want better execution Are we clear on that? I want better fucking execution Got it, yeah, this shit is mind-boggling Stop it, R.I.P. to Shanai Johnson I'm watching Gotta pick and roll like I'm John Stockton Them hoes try to set me up like Deshaun Watson I'm way crazy, I'll never let they play me Them same fake hugs that Belichick gave Brady Forever blessed even though heaven just can't save me Still say your grace, the devil just made gravy My temperature got acclimated Niggas can't be acting faded Kept it real once and got my Instagram deactivated The weed was sold, but I ain't sell it The package delivered, but I ain't mail it Yeah, the story was told, but I ain't tell it I ain't jealous I ain't inherit money from my great-parents Born into debt, but it's on to the next I'd rather call you collect than call you a threat I've been an asshole for days Hit the gas, no delays Bet Trae tha Truth a thousand on the Astros and Braves Bitches barely say they grace, never ask hoes to pray I just leave, pay the bill, then grab off the plates I'm past Hov and Drake, but no one usual cares 'Til I catch 'em on they throne and play musical chairs I know I got some screws loose up in there Your dad is talking No one knows it, my gun loaded like Alec Baldwin's Fast cars, I hit the gas, it'll have you nauseous Be cautious 'cause I ain't the rapper to back and forth with I'm half retarded, pay for a feature to smack your artist Release the track and market it, leave you attached to garbage Your CEO be stalling, he keeping your masters hostage But I'm independent, so I'll be leaving right after all this I'm gon' pick my nigga up when I see my nigga falling Bumpy always pick his phone up when he see a nigga calling Ayo, this mic need a light (word) Pass it to me right And it's fire in this motherfucker right here tonight Dark shades, you can clearly see me Plane tickets from Tokyo to New York City to see me MC (word up) Grays in the beard flow (word) Pick Bumpy over poorly delivered, no soul, sounding weird flows I owe hip-hop the biggest apology (sorry 'bout that) 'Cause everybody angry, who knew they would follow me? The difference is I was standing up for a cause Y'all niggas out here shooting over 30 dollar broads Yeah, 30 chips You fell in love with her dirty lips That made you dump on your homeboy a 30 clip She was fucking him too, that dirty bitch 19 years old and you gone over pussy, that was 36 Yo, Sy, you hear this shit? Weird as shit Executed in the realest spit Yeah Bump, let me get it Better execution, love every minute Never check what's proven, thug said he with it Send the next solution, but can we finish? Belichick was losing, drug in me, chemist