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dion jetson – clap for me lyrics

[intro: dion jetson]
yeah
it’s your boy jetson and we got something special for you tonight
we brought along seven1 and a very special guest broadway
we’d like for you to start this track with some claps
just clap for us please
c’mon, louder, louder, louder

[verse 1: dion jetson]
call me a seasoned veteran
tell these rookies grab my bags cuz they can’t touch my letterman
late nights bullsh-t cartwright
awkward shots lay you down like iron mike
let the pigeons fly we soar like eagles
desert but i cross the pond like a beatle
dreams of a million all ones all legal
since the fetal had dreams of selling out the motherf-cking regal
hold your applause, i don’t f-cking need it
arod rap syringe flow, no conceding
so conceited my own lyrics i’m repeating
on the same track but we ain’t competing
y’all run sprints, we run marathons
i carry the torch you just a carry on
f-ck a finish line, whole life a victory lap
don’t call it hip hop call it winner circle rap

[hook: dion jetson]
i ain’t trying to hear the lies y’all n-ggas tell
fake followers, fake record sales
pull your skirt up n-gga, its show and tell
now clap for me b-tch, like dave chappelle
clap for me, clap for me, clap for me n-gga, clap
clap for me, clap for me, clap for me n-gga, clap
clap for me, clap for me, clap for me n-gga, clap
clap for me, clap for me, clap for me n-gga, clap

[verse 2: broadway]
all these label execs telling me get my buzz up
all you want to do is try to rape me if it was up
seen n-ggas get less time giving they blood up
seen n-ggas get no time giving they plug up
they don’t wrap like me and i ain’t talking bout no hip-hop
spent a buck on saran wrap, aluminum foil and ziploc
eight hours on the road no pit stop
four cylinder i made it on a full tank
i went to the feds, bump went to the feds
it wasn’t n0body here to pull rank
i ain’t f-cked up bout no paper
i ain’t played a m-th-f-cking game since sega
n-gga getting money putting reggie in a vega
sitting on omegas, hollering at the moes on ada
‘o6 boo man came with the kush
fred at the white house treat him like bush
king was alive throwing money through the roof
if you look under evil bet the money was the root
home of the crooks, home of the bangers
i’m a m-th-f-cking hustla, i’m a got d-mn slanger
check my paper work, i ain’t no m-th-f-cking sanger
i know the streets well, i ain’t no m-th-f-cking stranger

[hook]

[verse 3: seven1]
i’ma keep it raw like your f-cking pa
everything i wrote, i probably did or saw
ask the law how many names i gave ‘em
more aka’s than winston-salem
they want that real sh-t, look how i raised them
the truth bathed them, yeezus couldn’t save them
eastside landlord stomp your feet n-gga
remove your shoes these ain’t your momma rules n-gga
who got a story to tell, charlie i’m all ears
i got a bridge for lese so meet me at the pier
two parent household i shouldn’t be cold
the devil asked for my soul but it been sold
n-gga lie to his momma, think he real with you?
told his kids he’ll be back but never came through
told the pigs those n-ggas selling weight too
and this the hottest n-gga out, n-gga f-ck you

- dion jetson lyrics

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