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Cut From A Different Cloth

Ab-Soul (feat. Joe Budden)
Popularity ยท Low
๐Ÿ‡ฌ๐Ÿ‡ง English ยท Original

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Lyrics

Look at me king Look at me king Soul Ay, yeah, K-Kayla on the couch sleeping She wake up, she gon' be like, "Damn" Yeah, come and spar with a titan If you ain't knew, it's true, I'm Zeus and I marvel at lightning What a marvelous sight, know the thought is enticing Flow stupid like 50 Tyson, no trip with 50 Cent I beat 'em all like Tyson, that's no coincidence Ab-Soul, don't forget the hyphen, I might throw a fit You think I lived in the Salvation Army but all it is Is that we got a new 2Pacalypse Now (When?) Before the apocalypse, wow, how do you come up with this? If you behind Ab, then maybe you can stomach this Who could fuck with it? I know you got a dick, but use your head, bruh They sleeping on me, by a colony of bedbugs Cut from a different cloth and no one knows my thread count (Soul on) My mind is like a sword, you swore I'd have a haircut (Soul on) Soul is bugging, no discussion, Joe, you know it's nothing Wrote the score and then I scored, metaphor, and one I don't know about you I don't know about them I just do what I do, they just do what they can They be hating on the man with a knife in they hand Cut from a different cloth, cut from a different cloth All these niggas on my dick, all these bitches on my balls Cut from a different cloth, cut from a different cloth Middle fingers to the fakers, middle fingers to 'em all Y'all can hold the applause I just did what these other niggas was scared to do Tell me life is hard, I'll ask what the fuck do you compare it to? Quarter on the loose, I'm blessed enough that I can spare a few Told me I'd be dead, the fact I'm breathing is a miracle Y'all got gall, I'm listening to all These dudes that y'all call lyrical Excluding none, I conclude that you young And you dumb if that's how they appear to you I'd be lying if I said your words ain't bother me Be lying if I ain't think it was trickery or reverse psychology I came in on Rakim, watched y'all take the bar, y'all low with it Won't stay in line like a bed of wife Ain't too many spots y'all can go with it How long y'all gon' Febreze manure and think the fans won't notice it? Nah, I ain't get angry, a busted chip on my shoulder did Not to gloat, fight one of the GOATs Y'all probably missed my track record Either that or y'all just ain't been keeping track of records I just been waiting 'til that sentiment pass Y'all ain't even gotta be drunk to feel this genuine draft I'm letting Benjamins stack, shouldn't Be hard to tell if the boy is potent I'm the only time you'll see a madman be void of emotion Cause they fear me in any cypher they hear me in Only rapping with Soul for the outer body experience So hats off, y'all fit for this, but y'all the type we laugh at I'm way ahead, when I aim for yours Something tells me he won't snap back All I ever been was a outcast, it's time in all to move past that But the burner name is Jackson and your alias is Baghdad (Blah!) It's not a game, try to execute 2K's my old bitch, know I keep an ex to shoot If anyone tried to do the math, they'd probably be mad as fuck Said I'd never amount to shit, now they tryna add it up I don't know about you I don't know about them I just do what I do, they just do what they can They be hating on the man with a knife in they hand Cut from a different cloth, cut from a different cloth All these niggas on my dick, all these bitches on my balls Cut from a different cloth, cut from a different cloth Middle fingers to the fakers, middle fingers to 'em all Niggas is like motherfucking dollar store cloth, nigga (Fucking roaches) And this shit be less than a dollar, y'all like 97 cent cloth (Faggot)