Checks lyrics

[Intro: $id Tha Kid & Styles P]
Yuh, it's tha Kid!
Yeah!
Real rap, ain't no cap
Talk to 'em Ghost, let's get it
SP the Ghost, D Block, yeah!

[Verse 1: Styles P]
Gettin’ to the guap, smokin’ on the Raw though
Not runnin’ from the Lord nor runnin’ from the law
But you cross me? You gon’ get f*cked like a porno
Hammer with the switch, that is not my steez
Out the game, but connected with n*ggas from Medellín
If you dream of killin’ me when you wake, you better scream
I’m sorry Ghost, I take shrooms like I’m Mario, Luigi
Not in a Kart, I’m in a ‘Rari though, skrrr
Maybe the Lambo, the Porsche with the sicario
With some black gorilla n*ggas
But even all alone I’m still with a killa, n*gga
But I ain’t tryna kill, I just want the bills and a check
I’m just tryna stretch, you just wanna flex
Part Malcolm, part DM[X], 1/3 of the Lo[x]
And you know I keep it mellow but the spot marks X
I ain’t dead, but I’m doin’ well, just for context
Ghost
[Hook: $id Tha Kid]
Rappers giraffes, I’m a lion, b*tch I’m comin' for your neck
Got my hands on the iron, finna blow up like a Tec
Boy I'm the captain of this ship, all hands on deck
Y'all stagnant, talkin' sh*t, while I advance to the checks
Ain’t got time for nobody 'less we talkin' bout Pateks
Tryna grind for them 'Raris, 'member I was in a Lexus
I ain’t got no one else but myself on this trek
To the top of the hills, I advance to the checks

[Verse 2: $id Tha Kid]
Yeah
Tryna be a trendsetter, an M getter
Leave a rapper severed up in any vendetta
This my slaughterhouse, ain’t talkin' bout Joell
I split your mind with five nine's, stick em knives through your amygdala and cerebellum
You can never get up or remember
Like a dementia patient stuck in bed forever
An MC against me means careers in terminal stages
The king'll leave your teeth crooked, snatch your crown, put you in braces
No backin' down, y'all some lames, lace up
It's game time, my name shine like daylight
So y'all can’t stay complacent
Joe Budden, y'all some playa haters
I eat on fine china but y'all plates made of paper
Peasant sh*t, but I’m heaven sent
Ask me why? 'Cause I ain’t never sell my soul to the devil b*tch
I’m 'bout action and less talk
Dashin', no pit stops
The fashion is tip top
Ain't just rappin', this hip hop
Big dawg status while all of y'all faggots is kidz bop
We ain't after the hoes but y'all sad as f*ck tryna lip lock
Tha Kid stomps anybody that’s in his way
And you gon' need a doctor, but I for sure ain't talkin' bout Dre
[Hook: $id Tha Kid]
Rappers giraffes, I’m a lion, b*tch I’m comin' for your neck
Got my hands on the iron, finna blow up like a Tec
Boy I'm the captain of this ship, all hands on deck
Y'all stagnant, talkin' sh*t, while I advance to the checks
Ain’t got time for nobody 'less we talkin' bout Pateks
Tryna grind for them 'Raris, 'member I was in a Lexus
I ain’t got no one else but myself on this trek
To the top of the hills, I advance to the checks