"Barbour St" lyrics

Judge a king by his character, not the things he own
You rap, these are chronicles from a creaky stove
Tacchini robe on my kingly throne
My question is, how you living off that measly phone?
I'm ducking jack boys, federally stings and probes
Trap smoky as the fog machines at Breezy Bowl
Ruder than negligence, a plug was a Heaven-send
The fact that this evil's root became irrelevant
I disappointed granny, selling it
'Caine in the air, and sometimes your relatives is inhaling it
Can you stomach it? Can you stomach it?
When I was fully immersed in it, I was running in
This ain't you, you wouldn't stand a chance
Just yesterday, I revived Dirty Kirk before the ambulance
Locked in so I'm probably distant
I'm in the hood 'cause I'm hood
You in the hood 'cause you poverty stricken
You think I'm with her for the pleasure, it's probably business
Read between the lines, I'm probably pimping
Nigga, mine is what your property isn't
Copped me a ribbon out of Vale Constructions
You niggas give me rat vibes, I wouldn't sell you nothing
Time to reveal y'all broke still, you niggas failed and bluffing
I'm elite at telling tales and selling crummy oils
Why the fuck would a fan spend their money on you?

Why, nigga?
Nobody cares, I keep saying that
You niggas would do anything for a couple likes, nigga
I knew what this shit was gon' be like when I signed up for this shit, nigga
I'm all the way in, nigga
I'm gon' play this shit however you niggas want to
I'm with it all, nigga, I'm everything I say I am, nigga
I'm the biggest nigga in this shit