Stop and Listen

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I don’t understand what is happening.
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good to know I’ve still got it
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Can we get the lyrics? My old ears can’t hear so well and I know I’m missing some nuggets.
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Wilb Hooks Hands, I flow sick
Fuck Larry Scott, blow dick
Got big 10 money, 60 footer on the bay
92 rose bowl loopin in the frame

Tried to stream us on apple kliavkoff where the buck stop
Colorado fell off, prime time truckstop
Cauce and Scholtz went ghost like grandparents
Now the bank account put up 0’s like Brian ferentz

Got a big house but that motherfucker on the lake
No tears for the pac-4, let em eat cake
actin brand new wildin like lanning when the bag hit
Bout to hit the buckeye boards, Im on my bullshit

Puffin trees im on that green wave
Its big easy when I drop like 46 bars im in the zone
Its like SC been soft ever since sark came through and crushed patron

SC tried to dip but we tailed em to the b1g
now its ski mask szn, no lights on the rig
got patnas in Eugene real gassed up, bro they off the rails
Bout to take the color offa calebs nails

Shout out to them boys in Indiana for the god mike penix
You know he bout to feature on the remix
Im taj davis down the sideline
litty on the yacht you know im gone up off that pink wine

Got Sioux Falls swagger, all my homies from the badlands
sparty flew across the map just to get the pimp hand
PJ fleck broke as fuck, you aint gotta row with 2000 horses
goin diesel and a deckhand

we official got incredible shit
Blue water bistro when the edibles hit
Get to de choppa, caviar and chilled vodka
They in Eugene playing foot locker

Its 9:30 when the sun come up, 3:30 when the sun go down
its a long winter
Thats why we sailin’ every chance that we get
In September, lake Washington lit

Put a couple racks on the pigskin
Gold chalice on the top deck I sip my purple drank in
They gather round me when I come through
Throwing rose petals at my feet shout out to DJU

Got love for the beav tho, man you hate to see it
They gone fuck the big sky up I guarantee it
Coach smith ran the damn ball 19 times
So I could give yall one more rhyme

Surfing’ on an ocean made of coug tears, yeah Im in the pipeline
Cowabunga baby, ride the wave into a gold mine
Go west mothafuckas to the mountains
We be gettin money till the regents sick a countin

We aint need wazzu we got Iowa now
Already lost sight a ya now in the rear view
Mirror mirror on the wall who be the baddest mothafuckas
Say who say dawgs

Jen Cohen aint about it she down in south central
We aint shed a tear keep it LA confidential
I pay homage, leopard fur in the stateroom
crystal chandeliers my ascot is heirloom

Whoo! might hit myself with the sanctions
Flipped it so hard the homies call me troy Franklin
Cookin like a Springfield duck
can’t see a mothafucka with the O that got the wings on his truck

B1G freestyle, real rap,
Sucka MC’s get nixed like Alex Cook in the gap
Its been a Wilb Hooks production
RIP to the homie Kris Hutson
 
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