Classic

The first hug from the psychopath is much more touching than that of your own mother
Lights off, people illuminated
Classic classic shit bitch, elevated shit
In the neighborhood, there are no witnesses, black people never saw anything
The stories are true, my face confirms it

They didn't even touch me, my move is ready
You don't see me or understand my point of view
Come back three times, this time Franzo on the dance floor
Dropping it hotter than the girls on your Insta

I'm not an artist, my mother is the artist
I don't know the destiny but I know I'm late, very late
They want to hide me, I spit out works of art
If I have to endure those boasts

Cowards, I'm planning other empires
Serious problems? They're solved with money
But if it's family, I'll see you in the cemetery
That bitch is scared because my people spit shit Classic

Shady shady business, we take care of the clientele
My people fly, let it hurt whoever it hurts
More classic than the faces under my eyes
More classic than the perfume that bitch wears

My south, my era, appearing from the shadows
Those people trying to imitate my works
You really wanna? Good shit abounds
Like Montana helping whoever needs it

The corner informs you, the neighborhood swallows you
You keep living chasing fairy dust
I'm still calm, cousin, not making a scene
I'm not crazy, few are the ones who accompany

More classic mama than your legs in my bed
Sweeter than coffee in the mornings
Lighting up another joint, I'm not in the mood
Surely it's the routine of this damn insane life
Shit Classic