Sounds Like the Intro

I’m a hell of a man, he a shell of a man
I rock the old Miami Hurricane pelican hat
I got some bougie-ass dope in a elegant trap
These niggas moody-ass marks with irrelevant raps
Give me space, damn, Space Jams, 11, all-black
Still we don’t feed him, size 11's on Shaq, mack
If you think he «the Dude», then I’m Devin on crack
Fact: if you think she your boo, you should check out my Snapchat
Black Narcissus, idol like Billy
Nothin’s free but the willy, ghostwriter like Gillie
White bitch named Sally make a nigga act silly
Got some big-ass titties like she Jennifer Tilly
The Bride of Chucky got high and fucked me
You ain’t read my rights while you’re trying to cuff me
Nacho flow so dope, label trying to hustle
Crying for her daddy 'til her eyes got puffy
First heard this shit and it sound like the intro
First hit the chick, she was bound to be nympho
First plead the fifth, don’t get found givin' info
Kinfolk in my town hella simple but my town hella sinful
Ya’ll softer than sorbet and Prada
Your baby-mama pussy, carne esada
Erik Estrada, for them chips, go «Blocka! Blocka!»
Spray your block up like Binaca, tuck your cock up, you’re Bianca
You’re probably in the bathroom getting ready to Rihanna
Nigga, I’m the king, they just Toddlers In Tiaras
I keep a four-five and a Q.P. at Kiara’s
I keep a couple rounds, couple pounds at Tamara’s
We live today like there’s no more tomorrows
Not black-and-white, boy, I dream de colores
I keep a bass, snatch your shit, word to Boris
Bubba Kush back to back, word to Forrest
Now my life is like a box of chocolates
I used to stuff my socks with rocks in lockets
Hidin' crack in my sis' Polly Pockets
Pocket-rockets, better stop it, bitch, I’m Spacely Sprockets