Lyrical Breakdown of Piñata - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

Live like 9-5, I rhyme and come alive

My grind divides fine through my divine eyes

It's prime time, you wish you could buy time, but it's my time

Thoughts against I, blasphemy, it's like a vice crime

I roll 'em thick and I ignite mines

I don't even get high, I just get equally back in my right mind

I'm getting lethal with these nice lines

Creeping through your speakers

Catch you sleeping like a thief of in the nighttime

Young Doms, none of you niggas correspond, bitch

Kick the fuck out of the track on some Jean-Claude shit

Get the fuck out of the streets, nigga, I bomb shit

Shit ain't all good no more, y'all on your con shit

The fuck is your conscience? Testing me is nonsense

The whole city is mine, I'm the best up in my conference

Ain't feeling me, fine, ain't gotta listen to my shit

You can hear about me from the critics all on my dick

Bitch, I've been thugging since the motherfucking Ten Speed

Redbone on my handlebars, I like my bitches mixed breeds

Feel the Philly tighten with a 20 sack of stress weed

Educated, at the stove I'm working recipes

Reputation say I'm robbing just for recreation

Revive my enemy with gun-to-mouth resuscitation

Can't wait to this pussy nigga pay me, I'm impatient

Let's go kick in their door and strip them naked, leave 'em stinking

No witness, no weapon, my nigga, the case is over

The reaper snatched 'em, closed casket, his family needs a closure

And Moses had ten commandments, Huey had ten points

Won't see my homie for ten, dropped him off at the joint

Staring at my future in my rear-view

Family cried some tears, I got some years, it ain't no issue

Mama with the tissue

Saw her breaking down, she just might cry a river

Murder one, she can't believe she raised that type of nigga

I tried to do right, but it only got your boy fucked in the game

So I changed my mind, now I'm back on this grind

Trying to get this change

Niggas hate to see me getting it

Travelling packs with a red dot

Boy, it ain't your knot, trying to get what you got

When the rain and the pain gon' stop

Standing on the porch early, no shoes, selling blow in my socks

And I was watching for the ghetto bird

Ain't got no money for college

So all I know is how to sack and how to serve

I be damned if I miss another lick for the chips

Got me stacking, almost splurging on weed, syrup and whips

Niggas around my way be loving it

I'm Cadillac'ing, blowing good alligators with the belts to match

I got an ounce with an ounce to match, bust it down, get back

Hopefully maybe get the clique out the trap

I need dough like a bread baker (Amen)

24/7, got ready on the turf, player

All day

Make 'em hop in the new coupe

Niggas been winning, that ain't nothing new

Forgive me for the sinning that they be doing in this business

Not using their words to express truth

Out in the streets with a screw loose

On the Westside I got the juice

Just tell me what you trying to do

She loving the crew and ain't fucking with you

I go where the hood niggas get into it

I go where the bad girls go shop

Every window tinted but the rooftop

That money I'll just spend it to get you shot

Can they be hating, they got no reason

Right where they got me, the place I Delete 'em

We kicking on weaklings just for all of their secrets

I can't believe the shit that I'm seeing

I'm hearing the words, doing my reading, it's really absurd

Not enough leaders, the shit that they feed you, it's just what you eating

They call me young Veggies, I make it go green

I smash in all your teeth, the fuck is you saying?

You got the candy's, the niggas is spraying

To get away and take over the land, yeah

My mind on capital, I'm not just rapping, dude

I'm out to speak actual factual, watch how a master moves

You ball a fist what that gon do

I'm from a city clapping fools

You off the tit and lacking while watching me fashion stools

Shitting styles, you never had a hot line that I didn't dial

Little princes always trying to fit a bigger crown

But don't forget I sit amidst some seasoned gents

Them bitches knowing he a pimp ain't even need to read the blimp

It was a good day, good day to O'Shea

A death certificate for anyone who lay in my way

You best revisit all the tombstones that lay in my wake

Me being knowledge, be honest

You seen the prophet get sacrificed by the opps

It get ratchet when ratchets out and they firing

Residue on piñatas, wonder what's up inside of 'em

It's sure ain't no Vicodin cause it up and excited 'em

But they ain't get high enough, if you ain't succeed, nigga

Buy again then try again

It's the irrational type of nigga to John Madden tackle you

Steal your car keys and crash your coupe in the botanical

Wrap you with shackles, tangle you, pull from ever angle, dismantle you

Watch your blood mixed with mud and stain the gravel too

Grab and shoot, rib cage open like a parachute

Close range, switchblade, poke 'em if it's personal

Blood stains, gold fangs, mask on, no traits

Murder one, closed case, stolen whip, no plates

Half a body in the trunk, go to prison, no way

Speed off the Brooklyn Bridge before I catch a cold case

Realize I'm the voice for those who do not have a voice

So I voice my fucking voice, I don't have a fucking choice

Cold blooded, leave some niggas, well I hope you got insurance

Shotgun and shorty lift 'em like the potent in my joint

Barrels smoking like Red Auerbach

Still can't believe I'm getting fed on rap

I don't know what's louder, the pack or the gat

My endorphins are morphin', absorbin' energy

Original copy, A Tale of Two Cities gets read to me

Reading Emerson novels, eating some Belgian waffles

Some powder go up my nostrils, my dick going down her tonsils

What's up? Play with an abacus, I've been stressing like Catholics

That's the shit, a bit of that happiness in my cup

This generation corrupt, these people brainwashed with evil

My music is more cerebral, exploring just what you need to

So this your exodus, Church of the Methodist

Beating up the pussy, have her screaming like a exorcist

(*scream sample*)

Absorb it through your pores, the Lord with horns, a world war

Whores are more hors d'oeuvre when it's a world tour

O'Doyle rules