Ian Fleming - Ryler Smith, Mikey

Swear to god

You crazy for this one Mikey

(Riviera)

(Ohh)

This for my

Gucci wearers

Couchie playas

Crowd surfer tune

This shit crazy

Dreams of us being famous

(no doubt)

Mikey bump this shit so loud

The speakers busted

Too much distortion on rapper’s beats got me disgusted

Bust out the hot shots

We cookin like pasta

Drink at cafés at the plaza

Frequently spray with the choppa

Slicker than playas in Coppa

Shotgun

Clicking the pay on the internet

While slicing the salmon

You wanna be famous on Fallon

Pick up your poison

Your choice son

Employment won’t get us no Phantoms

Cut with a scalpel

Mikey the realest producer

You know he Italian

I’m riding on beats like a stallion

On my way up to the tavern

Rap is my son

I’m a parent

I be the chosen one

No wonder

Ain’t it apparent?

Shouts to my niggas

In the black Mclaren

Full frame with the canon

Riviera

Italian rustic house with the views

Write my next album

While you write your excuse

Nigga

Life told me

That I had the right to choose

Between getting screwed

And singing blues

Yet its hardly our own choices

Which we humans accuse

I made my own choice

Based on my instincts fool

That’s word to tools

Uh

Man I swear

I wouldn’t wanna wear your shoes

So dont mess with us individuals

(haha)

Testarossa

Park it by the red Daytona

Life my roller coaster

Play soul makossa

Thoughts of the good life

While walking through Ascona

Connections with some affiliations

Which are not known of

This shit bananas

Piss drunk

Scream out the top of my lungs

At 5AM

In beige white pyjamas

You can find me

Still spittin in distant lands up

They said I’m too loud

That I ain’t got no dinner manners

Black sandals

Contemplate the universe

And what it hands us

As we twist these funds

Like credit card scammers

Experience is the brush

Life is my canvas

As we went from amateurs

To experts

To being masters

Walk with the pride of a lion

Of hot African dunes

Hungry

Got so angry I had lift the tomb

Ayo

Now this the tune

Classics they gone too soon

Rappers wearin' all types of colors

Like some flick cartoons

So go grab a drink

And get down in the mood

This just a minor pause

You call it interlude

Ain’t reppin' corners

Won’t impress to chauffeur

Rappers acting like movie stars

It’s jus a painful culture

Rage refuse

Either make it or just make an excuse

A million reasons not to do it

Can only think of two

Number one is the blood ain’t vanished

Mikey the boss producer

Swear yall other dudes

Are simply average

Number two established

If you ain’t worth it

This industry gon fuck you heavily

And leave you dead and famished

This shit the mood for life

Smooth but hype

This so ridiculous

He might just screw your wife