DRAM – Check Ya Fabrics

Yo, what happened to this shit, ho?
Keep going, it sounded great!

Tell Fatima that my sneaker that I paid too much from Neiman’s…
Gotta… gotta flow, gotta flow
Gotta go, gotta go
And my only first time puttin’ these mothafuckas on
I only have eyes on my clothes
I love my clothes like I love my girl that I hold close at night
I got so many clothes in there it’ll make you lose your mind
I got suitcases and suitcases and shoelaces upon shoelaces
Two options, but I keep the ones in
Blue faces, blue faces, I got…
I got Fear of God, I got Prada
I got Gucci on, I got Balenciaga, but they did me wrong
I’m waitin’ for I can get my discount on
I’m waitin’, man, I’m addicted to these clothes, dawg
I’m addicted to wearin’ ’em at my shows, dawg
Wearin’ ’em out every time I step out, wearin’ it
All times of the day, I be in the house fresh like
Why the fuck is he doin’ that shit? You don’t know what happened next
Might be somethin’, ill happened
Grab out your phone and look at your fabrics
Them shits is good, your gold is glowin’, nigga, you got it
Them shits is good, your juice is glowin’, nigga, you got it
Dammit, bruh, dammit, bruh, dammit, bruh
Remember when I used to eat them made sandwiches
From my mama like it was lunch, made, lunch, made
I was at the shipyard [?]
I brush and roll, brush and roll
That brush and roll
12 dollars [?] 12 fucks, that’s right before the tax
You know that they ’bout to take 1/6th of that
Oh, Uncle Sam

I only have eyes for my clothes
I only have eyes for my fabrics
I only wear [?] clothes
Nigga you know I got it
I got the Fendi belt
I got the Gu… ooh, ooh
I got the Prada belt with the fur
I got the… yeah, yeah
I got that corduroy as well, yeah, yeah
With the little studs on the side
Studs in the front, what?
I got [?]
I got [?] in the front
I got new shit, got the Common Projects for the basic
I got rent on, I got all that shit, bitch I’m famous
I don’t know it though, I roll down the window like what’s up?
People come inside, they be lookin’ like, "what’s that, bruh?"

Yo, I had walked up in the…
Yeah the chicken spot up in the city
Jersey City spot is right outside New York City
Where they’re tryna get a little cheaper, but it’s gritty
I was with my lil’ bitty, with my lil’ bitty
I was tryna go out, tryna be my own
Sometimes I don’t wanna have these fuckin’ people out here
Thinkin’ that I’m just a superstar, so well known
That I don’t know how to walk like people walked back in the days
In their shell toes
[?] change your ways, nigga, hell no
Anyways, we walked up in the chicken joint
And that girl tapped her man like
"Bae, that’s the boy that did that song, that one song
That "I be on that fuck shit," they sing along
The one our kids like, the one that niggas fight up in the club
Because it gets hype
And nigga stepped up on your Nikes, they ones
Them ones you just got yesterday, them new Air Force Ones
Them Fresh Wipes, you know you can’t even get the scuff up off them
[?] fuck up off you
Sometimes that shit [?] problems"
I was just tryna make music to make the people do it
I seen somebody gettin’ moved to my fuckin’ music
Moved [?] pain involved
But I was like I seen the pain, but just stay at home
The next song is gon’ make you feel like a ray of sun
The next song is gon’ make you think about your one
Even if you’re still lookin’ for that very one
You gon’ have this to know that [?]

Joe Budden – Three lyrics

When you stay ready you ain’t gotta get ready, Parks. Understand that

[Verse 1]
Microphone check, it’s something new y’all rage
These views only prelude from the dude on stage
I’m old school, so my mind is in a New York state
Still feel like I’m the best rapper in the New York State
Though I’m a Jersey City product, we like two doors away
Maybe I’m just the best rapper whipping New York plates
Indeed it be the God
If Fetty is the face of New Jerz, then you see how badly we needed I
Young doing it my way, that’s Frank Sinatra
I might hang with you bloggers, but I bang with the mobsters
See me right in Hell’s Kitchen having drinks over pasta
Need the fake to love the real so let me thank you impostors Bicoastal early, y’all hit the Daytons and Impalas
Started buzzing around the time Sporty Thievz kept saying “nada”
Emcees ain’t even bother, and I don’t know what’s truly worse
Them wanting my spot or not knowing they gotta move me first
You are now entering the mind of the sick
About as remarkable as it gets
Here’s what they think about you
Here’s what they think about you
You are now entering the mind of the sick
About as remarkable as it gets
Here’s what they think about you
Here’s what they think about you


Now, Parks, let me get back to my shit right quick. Now turn me up in my headphones, let me get back on my rage shit right quick though. But turn the lights down in the booth, let’s do this real quick. Look. It go

[Verse 2]
Few years, weights up, still sleep, wake up
Bitches know the stakes up since I beat my case up
Hip hop shit list, look at these bastard men dress
I’m just taking back what’s owed, and adding interest
Maybe just my love died, loud lit above high
Slugs fly, eyes scrubbed dry, still a thug cries
All this paraphilia versus my necrophilia
How are they record dealing ya? I wasn’t ever feeling ya
This feeling equates professional weapon, can’t seal it, bruh
Deuce deuce, .380, a chopper Beretta millia
Hov said 30 is the new 20, me, I feel like 30 is the new 40
I bought 30 new 40s
A bitch moving pills get 30s to move off me
Just watch how you moving in Jersey, it’s too costly
And memory with candles is where the energy laying you
Protect me from my loved ones, enemies I can handle
If you talking Slaughterhouse please refer to “SlaughterMouse”
Think twice before you blink twice, you gotta roll with mouth
Got you birds popping, it’s Korver or Kurt Warner mouse
And I be dolo, nobody gotta come warn the mouse
Used to take drives through the tunnel, we getting offers now
Smelled my man a soda, it’s teddy, I bridged the water’s mouth
Live from the Horror house, calling out
Done with all this drawing mouth
Duke with all the Terry Bradshaw about
Kill spree, cops should look after
Y’all be yelling free your mans, I yell at my man stop getting captured
And all my Irvington niggas over alliance put one in the air for Rev. Ron
You know we rock with the pastor, moment of silence

Put one in the air with me right quick. Bruh, we love you, rest in peace. All my Newark niggas what up? All my niggas over at Chancellor, what’s good? Surf, I see you, on neighborhood. What up? Anywhere there’s real niggas around, I’m right at home. Alright, bring my drums back in a minute. I like this bass though. I don’t think that’s gonna change anytime soon though