More John Blaze lyrics

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[Verse]
sh*t could get ludicrous, foolishness
Who is this doin' this rappin'?
Grew with this, groove with this newest sh*t, losin' it, snappin'
Coolin' it, rulin' it, goonin' it, my n*ggas clap, man
I do this sh*t, I'm like the rap game's Michael Jackson
Bo Jackson, the style is finesse
Me and my n*ggas gettin' money like the IRS
You paid less and make less, we pay our debts
I'm all about my treasure like that pirate Jack, Johnny Depp
My outfit is a Ralph Lauren/Armani mess
Italian kicks, and we on a Maserati quest
Used to hit n*ggas with the karate left
All these guns got a n*gga doin' karate less
Mic check, one three, one two, one two
If you don't like my sh*t, how you think I feel? f*ck you
You ain't even half of me, don't wanna feel the wrath of me
Can't stand a wack emcee, I think I got a allergy
I only aim to be the god of rap, and I ain't leavin' that
A hundred tapes [?] hooptie [?]
I bring the static, I'm charismatic with automatics
Flip you like you won the Olympic challenge in acrobatics

[Outro]
n*gga, f*ck that n*gga Tha God Fahim, man, he keeps droppin' tapes, man, that n*gga f*ckin' up my opportunity, man...
I'm tryna get me some shine. My sh*t more John Blaze than that!
My sh*t more John Blaze! Why do n*ggas like this n*gga, man?
This n*gga wack, man. I could walk around Philly and find a hundred n*ggas better than him, man. f*ck this n*gga. Man, f*ck this n*gga