Mathematics - OJ Da Juiceman

In the trap back at it, all I know is mathematics

Keep that clean fish scale, chickens bust up out the wrapper

2008, Juiceman turned into a rapper

Coming down the road with them bricks in a camper

Flying down the Crest, bricks in my daughter Pamper

Zone 6 nigga right here in East Atlanta

Keep them Hefty bags, nigga you can call me Santa

Small fry nigga, you’ll never be on my level

Hater get on my level, bricks come in on schedule

Dancing with the devil ever since I was in Pampers

Georgia Baptist born but I was raised in East Atlanta

Zone 6 nigga still trapping with them blammers

Out here serving Dirty Diana, got keys just like pianos

In the kitchen cooking Hannah, make a hater turn the channel

Mississippi mud but my name not David Banner

In it for a bag, you can keep the fame and glamour

Run bricks like Deon Saunders

My name they wanna slander

32 ENT and the feds wanna ban us

Born in the trap but they just don’t understand us

Grew up with the boys but half of 'em jealous

In the trap back at it, all I know is mathematics

Keep that clean fish scale, chickens bust up out the wrapper

2008, Juiceman turned into a rapper

Coming down the road with them bricks in a camper

Flying down the Crest, bricks in my daughter Pamper

Zone 6 nigga right here in East Atlanta

Keep them Hefty bags, nigga you can call me Santa

Small fry nigga, you’ll never be on my level

Swim team wrist when I’m cooking fish

Catch me in the kitchen, nigga I can serve a dish

Plug throw the rock, Chris Paul, I assist

Slam like Blake, damn near broke my wrist

Posted in the trap, in the yard is some fish

Say I got it from rap, nah nigga, it was bricks

'Cause the J’s love the rocks and the niggas love to sniff

Smoking up the gas, we call it piff

Feeling like Tony, got my name on a blimp

Shout out to Memphis, got Young Juiceman feel like pimps

Caught me slipping once, got Young Juiceman with a limp

Hundred rack donk, 20 bands for the rims

In the trap back at it, all I know is mathematics

Keep that clean fish scale, chickens bust up out the wrapper

2008, Juiceman turned into a rapper

Coming down the road with them bricks in a camper

Flying down the Crest, bricks in my daughter Pamper

Zone 6 nigga right here in East Atlanta

Keep them Hefty bags, nigga you can call me Santa

Small fry nigga, you’ll never be on my level

Shouts out to my baby Chloe

Yeah, that’s my homie

Nigga, run up on we

His family be lonely

I’ma act a donkey

Banana with the monkey

In a stolen car but I’m riding with a junkie

Mask on like a hockey with some military functions

Going out 'bout mine, I ain’t dying bout no fuck shit

Grab the sniper and say fuck it

Go and steal a bucket

Then, ending all that fuck shit

These choppas, you can’t duck it

You better not try to truck it

You ain’t Usain Bolt so you better not buck it

I’ma keep it real, I’m that nigga not to fuck wit

Treat your head like a brick, boy you 'bout to get it busted

In the trap back at it, all I know is mathematics

Keep that clean fish scale, chickens bust up out the wrapper

2008, Juiceman turned into a rapper

Coming down the road with them bricks in a camper

Flying down the Crest, bricks in my daughter Pamper

Zone 6 nigga right here in East Atlanta

Keep them Hefty bags, nigga you can call me Santa

Small fry nigga, you’ll never be on my level