Peter Rosenberg, Styles P, Ransom and Smoke DZA - S.R.D.

Yeah, I'm cool but I'm petty as fuck (ah)
I'm the type to beat his ass when he said it's enough
Roll a J, take a puff
Underground but I'm over the top (over the top)
Enough's enough now, fuck the pigs, over the slop (I'm over it)
I'm like Stallone with the hat back, over the top (uh)
But I don't arm wrestle, I atom bomb wrestle
I'm a nuke when I'm in the booth, I'm a bronze vessel (I'm a vessel)
Have you seen a brown mule? (Have you?)
I can look in the mirror in the pitch-black dark, see if verses shine through it
I can kill the industry, I put my mind to it
I can look at the sun and say a rhyme to it
And the moon too, know I am aligned to it, yeah (I'm aligned)
It's the ghost of Peter Rosenberg (what up P?)
You get your millimeter if you know the word (get it)
You better light a joint if you know the time
If you ever seen a Jedi then you know the signs

Yeah, but what happens when both our souls align?
A soldier's prime is often wasted on war, never forget it
There's no credit for older rappers whose flows decline (that's a fact)
Niggas walk a tightrope but never can toe the line
I'm so refined that niggas who watch me can never know the time
So sublime, my vivid verses console the blind (yes)
Hot-headed nigga spittin' the coldest rhymes
Drop-dead niggas figure they know the crime
Control your mind with torturous imagery, there's no synergy (nah)
I cynically destroy all lyrically without sympathy, this meant for me (this mine)
I was placed here to be a messiah
Born in fire, raised in hell like a note that's raised by Mariah
My vocals came with desire (let's go)
I know you feel my energy (uh-huh)
You think you lost a friend, but in fact you're gainin' an enemy
Put my pain in this mentally (ah)
The only way I know to do it (yeah)
You don't need to know me, my nigga, just know the music

This one thing got me trippin', Amerie
This high level's not eye level, you can't critique
Packs and pearls, lemon cherry from Cannatique
Kicks from Joe Fresh Goods on release (really)
Let's make this quick, I had to go bust a cell
Watch goldmines crumble, niggas fumbled and fell
Check the weight on your own time, it's too much to scale
Appraisal for the piece, worth four years in Yale
Kush god, all hail Laurel
They talk tall tales, hope all is well, for real
This spot is hot, I had to keep off it
Switched the operation up, hit different resources
My people baggin' up, doggy said he feel nauseous
Half-ass too, Fenty got her trippin' in the hazmat suit (right)
Be careful with it, 'cause you really have to
Or it'd be your last move

"#1101-1816 is the item number on this one
And the nice thing about these practice katanas"
"Oh, oh, that hurt!"
"Oh, that hurt, big time
A piece of that, just the tip, just got me, O'Dell"
"Oh, that got me good" (you alright?)
"A piece of that tip just got me"
"Oh, right now, we, uh, may need emergency surgery in the studio"

Written by:
Randy Nichols, Sean Pompey, David Styles, Peter Rosenberg

Publisher:
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

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