Priceless Da Roc Demrick Futuristic Young Markk by Team Backpack Lyrics
[Verse 1: Priceless Da Roc]
I got the Bay a perfect place in my palm
And all these rappers on my balls - they should change their home adress to my drawers
'Cause I'm motivation - I'm making money off of dedication
I can give a group of bitches class - I'm school registration
Faking red dot on a nigga like a Playstation
[?] gassing up his car - [?] station
But Imma get this cash regardless
While these others dogs be barking
This' about the bite - and mine is to the strongest
Turn a vet into a novice
Read these funny niggas like a comic
Turn a freestyle battle to Mortal Kombat
I'm breaking records - nigga call up Guiness
And I be working in this lab like a chemist - no gimmick
When I'm spitting my raps sprint like 300 spartans mixed in with Popeye after a can of spinage
I treat bitches like dirt - I got a sand of women
And so much space up in this car that you can stand up in it
Niggas try to play the kid I had to raise the stakes 'n' shit
Beat a nigga's ass back to back on some replay shit
Knife to his throat - scratch his vocals like a DJ mix
Bitch take a seat or be a preacher [?] shit
They try to play a nigga - it's all good
But if I found a magic genie, yeah - I wish a nigga would
I smoke rappers - treat 'em like Swisher and Backwoods
I put the Bay on my back 'cause nigga I'm that good
Priceless Da Roc
[Verse 2: Demrick]
If you want a job - got it
What's the product? - It's narcotics
I'm a product of what I was brought up in
Now let me change the topic
You're out of [?] I rocket
Yeah, I'm out of here - athmosphere - outer space
Round these fucking rappers - I feel out of place
Just some empty kind of rappers let me play it safe
Put I pull my gun out like my dick and bust it in their face
My hood is like Planet of the Apes so high off the stakes
I see niggas love to grill so [?] off the stakes
[?] trough the innerstate
Hot box [?]
Straight shots [?] send a chase
I penetrate - Cambodian sisters they [?]
Fuck a different one a day
Do super shit without a cape
Stupid shit:
How you run the game, nigga? - You out of shape
Can't even get your papers straight then make it out of State
I rolled my purple up in paper [?]
And fill my pockets up with paper till I catch a case
Yah
[Verse 3: Futuristic]
Yo, WTF gang in this motherfucker
Yo, it's my kind of talk, okay
Futuristic in this bitch, even the deaf say that they heard me
Arizona's finest, spreading through the college, just like herpes
Nasty coming at me, it's dangerous like open heart surgery
Talking shit, get you banned for life, Donald Sterling
Only fuck with two or three, I'm shining like jewelry
Flow is colder than ice cream, they got tatted on Gucci's cheek
Stop it with the foolery, all dudes is on that same old
You got a lot of squares up in your circle like a eggo
Chopping it local on the come up with the words I never run out I be getting shit done
Ten million views on my YouTube
Every a thousand I let your ass get one
What's the ratio? You lazy bro, I got a track with Layzie Bone
Your lady knows, I give her that fellatio
You got beef, lil nigga, fillet mignon
Dash like Stacy, you need to switch careers, like Tracy McGrady
I could have a bitch beat you up, in the elevator, like Jay-Z
I'm running this game, if you get in my way
You get jumped like a hurdle
I'm killing these tracks and then Imma ask
Did I do that? Like my name's Steve Urkel, yeah
[Verse 4: Young Markk]
I'm the first three letters of ILLiterate
Which means in a battle
You'll get the last three letters of illiterATE
See, I know some of you guys are illiterate
But if you write down the word illiterate then break it up three pieces - you'll get it
Nigga, I'm from California - dreadlocks shaking just like maracas
Hit the corner in all your mirrors - blaka blaka bablaka
Riot for the lack of guidence - blame it on the absent father
They don't carry they kids - they ready to carry them choppers
On the other side of town niggas inspire to be a doctor
On my side of town the last thing you wanna see is a doctor
Cops and robbers - both criminals in disguise
'Cause you get shot and [?] die so they can get overtime
Paid for that homicide - praying to stay alive
Lift up my board
See them scores? - You can see that I overgrind, yeah
Jump in this game and Imma rain forever - but still shine
Look at how I control the weather
Control this cypher - 'trol 'cause the flow is clever
Don't need to be the Rockefeller with a acapella
Y'all ain't no mobsters - y'all just pasta spreaders
Y'all look real, but it's all just an illusion - like 2Pac at Coachella
Y'all be lying - claiming y'all lions when you're really kittens
You niggas be lying - like the Mayans [?]
Speaking of Mayans - I designed a little prediction
I'll kill anybody on this mic without an ounce of conviction
Whether its overproduction, freestyle, or a good written
When I step in the booth to my competition it's good riddance
No exceptions - in this cold world that we live in
Heart colder than the hands of a Los Angeles mortician
Flow wicked - no love for my opposition
They'll do anything for a win - man, they' worse than them politicians
So if they catch you slipping like a bad transmission
You better pray to God that the gun jam like Blake Griffin
Y'all ain't spitting
I got the Bay a perfect place in my palm
And all these rappers on my balls - they should change their home adress to my drawers
'Cause I'm motivation - I'm making money off of dedication
I can give a group of bitches class - I'm school registration
Faking red dot on a nigga like a Playstation
[?] gassing up his car - [?] station
But Imma get this cash regardless
While these others dogs be barking
This' about the bite - and mine is to the strongest
Turn a vet into a novice
Read these funny niggas like a comic
Turn a freestyle battle to Mortal Kombat
I'm breaking records - nigga call up Guiness
And I be working in this lab like a chemist - no gimmick
When I'm spitting my raps sprint like 300 spartans mixed in with Popeye after a can of spinage
I treat bitches like dirt - I got a sand of women
And so much space up in this car that you can stand up in it
Niggas try to play the kid I had to raise the stakes 'n' shit
Beat a nigga's ass back to back on some replay shit
Knife to his throat - scratch his vocals like a DJ mix
Bitch take a seat or be a preacher [?] shit
They try to play a nigga - it's all good
But if I found a magic genie, yeah - I wish a nigga would
I smoke rappers - treat 'em like Swisher and Backwoods
I put the Bay on my back 'cause nigga I'm that good
Priceless Da Roc
[Verse 2: Demrick]
If you want a job - got it
What's the product? - It's narcotics
I'm a product of what I was brought up in
Now let me change the topic
You're out of [?] I rocket
Yeah, I'm out of here - athmosphere - outer space
Round these fucking rappers - I feel out of place
Just some empty kind of rappers let me play it safe
Put I pull my gun out like my dick and bust it in their face
My hood is like Planet of the Apes so high off the stakes
I see niggas love to grill so [?] off the stakes
[?] trough the innerstate
Hot box [?]
Straight shots [?] send a chase
I penetrate - Cambodian sisters they [?]
Fuck a different one a day
Do super shit without a cape
Stupid shit:
How you run the game, nigga? - You out of shape
Can't even get your papers straight then make it out of State
I rolled my purple up in paper [?]
And fill my pockets up with paper till I catch a case
Yah
[Verse 3: Futuristic]
Yo, WTF gang in this motherfucker
Yo, it's my kind of talk, okay
Futuristic in this bitch, even the deaf say that they heard me
Arizona's finest, spreading through the college, just like herpes
Nasty coming at me, it's dangerous like open heart surgery
Talking shit, get you banned for life, Donald Sterling
Only fuck with two or three, I'm shining like jewelry
Flow is colder than ice cream, they got tatted on Gucci's cheek
Stop it with the foolery, all dudes is on that same old
You got a lot of squares up in your circle like a eggo
Chopping it local on the come up with the words I never run out I be getting shit done
Ten million views on my YouTube
Every a thousand I let your ass get one
What's the ratio? You lazy bro, I got a track with Layzie Bone
Your lady knows, I give her that fellatio
You got beef, lil nigga, fillet mignon
Dash like Stacy, you need to switch careers, like Tracy McGrady
I could have a bitch beat you up, in the elevator, like Jay-Z
I'm running this game, if you get in my way
You get jumped like a hurdle
I'm killing these tracks and then Imma ask
Did I do that? Like my name's Steve Urkel, yeah
[Verse 4: Young Markk]
I'm the first three letters of ILLiterate
Which means in a battle
You'll get the last three letters of illiterATE
See, I know some of you guys are illiterate
But if you write down the word illiterate then break it up three pieces - you'll get it
Nigga, I'm from California - dreadlocks shaking just like maracas
Hit the corner in all your mirrors - blaka blaka bablaka
Riot for the lack of guidence - blame it on the absent father
They don't carry they kids - they ready to carry them choppers
On the other side of town niggas inspire to be a doctor
On my side of town the last thing you wanna see is a doctor
Cops and robbers - both criminals in disguise
'Cause you get shot and [?] die so they can get overtime
Paid for that homicide - praying to stay alive
Lift up my board
See them scores? - You can see that I overgrind, yeah
Jump in this game and Imma rain forever - but still shine
Look at how I control the weather
Control this cypher - 'trol 'cause the flow is clever
Don't need to be the Rockefeller with a acapella
Y'all ain't no mobsters - y'all just pasta spreaders
Y'all look real, but it's all just an illusion - like 2Pac at Coachella
Y'all be lying - claiming y'all lions when you're really kittens
You niggas be lying - like the Mayans [?]
Speaking of Mayans - I designed a little prediction
I'll kill anybody on this mic without an ounce of conviction
Whether its overproduction, freestyle, or a good written
When I step in the booth to my competition it's good riddance
No exceptions - in this cold world that we live in
Heart colder than the hands of a Los Angeles mortician
Flow wicked - no love for my opposition
They'll do anything for a win - man, they' worse than them politicians
So if they catch you slipping like a bad transmission
You better pray to God that the gun jam like Blake Griffin
Y'all ain't spitting