Intro

Get it clear -- hater, I'm here

Still Standing, welcome to the tape of the year

Haze in the air

, I done turned it up another notch

Bulbs in my ear, I done turned it up a couple watts

At the motherfucking spot -- not the "motherfucking spot"

But your mother's fucking spot, with the butter in the pots

I don't know why I come across humble when I'm not

Might have lost a couple rocks, but I'm up a couple blocks

Suckers need to stop, give me a break

Since '07 I've been getting six figures a tape

While you get what you take

I'm a bit overweight

Picking pounds up like I'm trying to get into shape

Hundred grips

in the safe, that's something you know nothing 'bout

So get in your place -- my bad, I mean your mother's house

put up the right cash

And these corns want beef, I'mma crush 'em like hash

The hottest you know; you gotta be slow

I'm still standing, nothing like the Monica show

The Dips split, and they wondering which side I'mma go

But I don't pick sides, and the game's not to be told

I don't switch sides, man -- the game's got to be sold

I'm gonna let the Dip fly until they can't fly anymo'

No, ain't no one iller; what up, Killa?

Ain't speak about two years but what up, nigga?

I'm still J.R., a.k.a. A.R

B.k.a. "Who are you? You ain't on my radar"

Get it? This my play-yard, and I don't want these pawns around

Play hard, I play you out -- listen, this my stomping ground

I want the crown even though that I'm a champion

You still buying Champions

shit, I'm from Lionel Hampton

130th

burning piff

with the burner grip

I don't need a burner to murder this -- I just murder it

I know you heard I'm sick, or if not, you heard I'm sick

And yeah, the flow from outer space, but I'm

earthing this

How you sold grams? You ain't never served a brick

It's like you got no hands -- you ain't got a bird to flip

I'm from the murder strip, hood life shady

Nah, I wasn't born a rapper -- the hood life made me

But lately, I've been in the hood like crazy

Put red marks on your head, you'll look like Baby, baby

I am great, skipping on the race

730, but what I meant it's twenty minutes late

Niggas reckless, give the kid a break

Scott Tissue records, I'm shitting on your tapes

still lamping

Lex

with the grill dancing

Still scrambling cause yes, I'm a real champion

Of course, come mess with a real cannon

You thought I fell off, well welcome to Still Standing