Step2It - Vanvleet

I can go 1-10, gimme the ball
Game on the line, I feel like VanVleet
VanVleet
VanVleet
VanVleet
I feel like VanVleet

I just hit 22 like I slapped Taylor in the face
Airing out my issues, ventilation out the base
Running systems, keeping simple, I been on a different pace
Tying up loose ends like shoelaces
All of these new faces coming through the door
Imma be making music until they buying out the stores
Roll up in Apple
Company and the Big
I'm up in Ithaca while you be smoking cigs
Making big hauls, yeah, we talking big rigs
That'd be okay
I been dodging overdraft so much; you could say ole
They think Fire in the hole like chicken grease inside a solo
They melting plastic while I flow fantastic, making jumps like pogo
Y'all go like uh-oh; but you ain't my bro doe
Throwing off my mojo, just a second, I always beckon the fakes like a promo
Roll up to the spot, I make heads turn like the po-po
Got the flow and the vibe on a string like a yo-yo
I been fire for years, I just kept it on the lo-lo
I ain't always on time, but I hold the line like Toto
Mis-steps are a no-no
And Imma reach the goal, just watch how fast my flow go

I can go 1-10, gimme the ball
Game on the line, I feel like VanVleet
VanVleet
VanVleet
VanVleet
I feel like VanVleet

Imma really make it happen
No one gonna stop my passion
Anybody in the world with a microphone and a brain can make a living off rapping
Anyone can make it if you gotta decent beat and your music video got a couple asses

That ain't the shit that gonna get my homies trying to vibe
Imma be making tracks about my wife or swishing twine
My stroke like Novak on the Knicks
Catching and shooting from Jeremy Lin on the kick
Yo man my mode is on sick
My flow is smoother than Irving but still setting Bic to the wick
Every track is Baron Davis from 95 feet but I was born 96
Ain't got no drip cause it's literally the new swag
Tires are smoking, my foes are all taking a drag
Pop stars are waging war
Bruno's catching frags
Rappers taking shots
I be on my humble brag
Mistaken look for a mental punch
Figures at the pole, stolen motive served his bones for lunch
Frustrated with liquor, I'm not a giver of pain
Distain for others who assume what I do alone, must not know me much
Got a hunch for what the homies crutch
Maybe some NY style slice out the cornerstone to munch
Spitting rhythms more lyrical, outward looking so musically casual
Making money middle-brow, music much more magical
Image created is bashful to those in cheap seats
Running this game like I got cleats on
I'll tear up anything I got my feet on
Or cooking something up? I got the heat on
I'll hit up Conan like I'm Pete Holmes
Wheels or bullets, either way, leave the chrome be
Throwing it back to putting mayo on baloney
Or boiling macaroni
If I wasn't watching Chris Bosh, I was watching Kobe
On the quest for my best day just like Adrien Brody
I know I'm Michael Scott, my opposition is Toby
If you're hearing this, don't think that you'll ever know me

Written by:
Joe Proulx

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

Lyrics powered by Lyric Find