THE EDITOR

Imma catch a snitch then imma pop 'em like it's quidditch Imma run a fade on your house now, this cribbage Not your business Do this shit too simple It's the principle Imma sell some copies of my music up in physical Imma take your bitch ass to class call it simple school Higher a professor cuz you know that I'm too cool for you Then imma take my girl Tell her she my world Take her to all the places I know you can't afford From Paris to London To Cali I'm busting Then we gon' bring it back and you gon' see who she be trusting I'm not playin' Spitting real shit, no heart so I'm just clubbing Spitting all this real man I don't do it for nothing My flow to cold but I'm not Russian You can call me underground but you can't take that shit to Tubman I'm abundantly spitting Like camels in Sahara Yes I do peep the vision I just think you need it clearer Take a look in that mirror Lookin like that discount that muh'fucking clearance I can't relate I guess, I guess I should call it fate Got my momma at my house dictating my day to day I can't wait just to say (Not a) damn thing when I leave the muh'fucking house I'm the predator, The Editor, how Imma make it out But I'm still chillin' at the top like a muh'fucking scout No doubt, I'm getting fame No doubt, I'm getting clout (All these) rappers sound the same Y'all should really be ashamed Getting bested by that kid but he just got his own lane I rap and I direct I make cover art the best Always under pressure but I'm never in distress I produce, get lettuce Everybody else at my feet like a fetish I run the streets from the East to the West And every other block North to South know I'm the best I'll put that on my label and I'll say it from my chest I don't need to fake flex cause I got what's real Spit it from lips cause I'm just too ill I spit it like I'm gifted I do it with persistence I go hard on the beat like a piston I'm just living Think you need a genie cause all you do is wishing Run the game up and imma clean it like some dishes Cause I'm pristine, I'm clean, I'm mean I do everything Yeah, Yeah, Yeah I don't write verses bitch I write stanzas Shawty on my lap like this is Christmas and I'm Santa That ass on my wishlist, I'm the man of the hour I plan to devour cause I got the power