Okay (DipSet)
Writer... JR Writer that is
But you niggaz already know that man
History in the making
There's a lot of things you niggaz don't know about me, man
Let me put you on though, man
Well, I was making sales
At the age of twelve
Pack margarine, black laundry, case of shells
Never Dave Chappelle
Half baking, half faking, I was cash-chasing
Let me put you on
Before a hooker's song I wrote
Or would perform
I was pushing strong, you niggaz cooked it wrong
Ain't have 'em hooked for long
I hit the hood wit' form
Before Killa ever said "Let me put you on"
Flipping, listen baby I was never dumb
Sitting in the lobby like I'm waiting for some mail to come
Come see me, believe me I got it
Girl I'm with some chicken-head but my B is exotic
Cause I'm seen in the projects with the top low
Glocked though, that'll leave more holes in your body than a Quatro
That's a Maserati pappo, stop slow
You don't really know me that well, let me put you on
I'm known in a couple places but I'm new to the rest (so what?)
This is for those couple places that ain't schooled to this vet
Listen closer, I'm the greatest get in tuned with the best
JR Writer, the dude in the flesh, let me put you on
How I used to, go to school in class stuntin'
Back bubblin' like come and get a pack buzzin'
Ask cousin, brick up in the class oven
Had every other student up in cooking class buggin'
Box cutter, keep thinkin' I ain't stash nothing
While you was cuttin' class nigga, I was class cuttin'
In the schoolyard like let me catch a cat frontin'
I'm a slap something, let me put you on
I hit so much teachers with the lean
The principle, had to call a meeting with the dean
But that's just cause they wanted a piece of what I seen
Similar to gymnastics how I keep it on the beam
Had everybody in they classes getting high
Since elementary it's been a fact that I am fly
I tell the customers put the cash up in the sky
And treat 'em like a bad comedian
Slap 'em with a pie
Ha, all day in the lobby with piff
Still, sitting around like I gotta be rich
So me and? gotta pull some robberyshit
And drag frontin' niggaz outta they whips
Let me put you on
I'm known in a couple places but I'm new to the rest
This is for those couple places that ain't schooled to me yet
You need practice, plus you average, get in tuned with this threat
Fred Money, excuse me I'm next, let me put you on
I'm up next, yes the name is Fred Money (I'm up)
I'm waiting my spot now watch how I shot dummies
Blame Writer cause the swagger brushed off something
The closet a jungle, gators and some wet monkeys
Look ya haters love me, bitches get no paper from me
Pull up my sleeve at midnight and it turning sunny
Before Writer was spitting, it was robbin' or sellin'
With him from a ski maskers to a Diplomat skully
I ain't frontin', I'm tellin' straight facts
Decided to quit school cause I had to wear slacks
Nothing to do with clippers when I push them wigs back
Was handed the same shit: either rap or push packs
Thought about it, I ain't hustlin' for scraps
Driving to the top, that's only bringin' me flats
Got a pen, wrote a rhyme, J says its crack
A few mixtapes later, he like "Fred, let me put you on"
I'm known in a couple places but I'm new to the rest (so what?)
This is for those couple places that ain't schooled to the vet
Listen closer, I'm the greatest get in tuned with the best
JR Writer, the dude in the flesh, let me put you on
