The Wrap Up

I'm catchin all of these eyeballs When I pull up in the Beamer I got it loaded with reefer And play myself through the speakers I've just been cookin up this album like a loaded tortilla I gotta serve it up while it's fresh out the oven so eat uppp Boy I ain't even tryin, I ain't been tryin all summer I'm goin off of the top of my head from midnight to sun up I ain't got time for no second draft, ain't got time for revision I gotta stick to the mission and drop this shit on you fishes You know this shit is a business, but check my wrist when it's tickin Only so many minutes until I move to the city Now the summer is finished and I just packed up my bags, son Gotta race against the clock so I can rap up the album People asking me - "Is the the last we'll hear of Bash Bwa?" You know the kid is movin out to the Nash, bwa And before he left he sent you this album So you better mail him back some cash sonnnn I don't even know I don't even know what I'm gonna do I gotta leave the microphone Gotta leave behind the BMW I'm on the Zayn Malik flow Boy I'm headed out in a new direction It's hard to suppress the apprehension But I gotta transcend to the next dimension Like oh Subby ain't even playin The type of shit that he sayin He finna go Super Saiyan My - oh I know you couldn't see this shit comin Better put on some mittens It's comin fresh out the oven, boy