For Real

I usually rock around 92 BPM
They say I rock like its '94
But I don’t know if that’s some kinda flaw
This shit feels like im sittin' in a Commodore
She kinda fly but might have some kinda sores
Is that a real one?
Or what they accuse Nikki of?
Feel son
For never lettin fools trip me up put it on the glass
I got issues, still they put me in the mags
Original
Classic don’t mean shit
Cus yall apply the word to works too recent
I applied to work employed by 6th Sense
I provide the vibe the Native Tongues greenlit
And even if my body’s locked can’t trap my soul
Cus Eric B and Rakim taught me all I know
Guest professor, I guess I’ll let the streets lecture
No tuition snuck in all semester
Green bottle, brown liquor, red cup
Clear goggles, red fitted, black Chuck
Norris, Bad ass to the nth degree
And I don’t have bad days, they have me
Credit check, dues paid, ends meet and separate
I’mma stretch em out until they both straight
Catch up? You late!
Browse the catalog like you Christmas shopping dog
«Over this 6th instrumental
You get a phone number from a lightskin ho»
I just offended you huh?
It’s a quote and my quandrant never quantizes or quits
My fly shits the shit
Chocolatey to the sister of ya mami B
And Nesquik to ya next chick
I walk through Bed Stuy blastin Spec Flix
Gimme a check that is enough to exit
It’s cliche but we on that next shit