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Enter...Hot Curry

de Madlib

What shit is this?
(Nobody cares)
I promise you they don't, bruh (yo)
How you diss me and nobody knows? (Nobody knows)

Check it
I'm tryna get a billion on the books, no clue how a ceiling looks
Got monster concepts and we killing hooks
You shook, all in your feelings so stop with them grillin' looks
You ain't no villain, you Dillon Brooks (ha)
Let me guess, you on your grizzly, tryna diss me
I'm looking at him like Bron: Dawg, who is he? (Who?)
Outpace motherfuckers on the 10-speed (we out)
This Ukrainian gettin' billions, no Zelenskyy
All these projects, I feel like Prince, B (uh-huh)
YOD's KRS, you Prince Be (who?)
Get thrown off a stage and leave home in a rage
Go home, throw some Navy Blue on and burn sage
Every time I write, the words flowin' off the page (right)
Like the merchandise I got flyin' out the door
My next shit 'bout to blow (he doesn't know)
Yeah, yo, till that day come
Prolly eatin' Steak-umms, rappers is straight bums
They tryna get close to dudes I wanna move away from (huh?)
Watch how easily I replace 'em
They footnotes like a bass drum
Son, I been nice since ringtones and battles of kingdom (uh-huh)
A forty deuce looking for baddies to bring home (grown)
Never stay with one addy, this king roam
All these rappers just wanna be daddy like King Combs

Divide and conquer, inside my being resides a monster (uh)
I line you up like you need a barber, don't be a martyr
Don't be a starter, believe in karma, I'll be your sponsor (yeah)
Go even farther and deadbeat like it need a father
Get even darker than DMX on the streets of Yonkers
The cheaper hawker love Mary Jane like I'm Peter Parker (uh)
S.I. new Yorker, we don't make up stories, Sephora
I mean to keep it a bean like Goya
I'm a microphone fiend, my tree green as sequoia
The New York State greens, have you ever seen that no more or nah?
Life a B if you can't support her
Ain't no price tag, if you gotta ask, then you can't afford her, ah
Your band real, but soon as your man squeal
Get your man killed for that monkey business, you're mandrill
If that man still stands and he takin' the standstill
Put that steel on the stand and tell him to stand still (bum)

Musicians usually are regarded (tical)
As sort of the scum of the earth (nobody cares)
And so if you want to, uh, be a musician (nobody knows)
You just have to realize, nobody's really gonna care

Five rings on my hand, Miyamoto Musashi
Workin' to get bigger than the nigga who starred in Degrassi
By the will and grace of God, I'ma do it, wallahi
It's always the adversaries who be willin' to stop me
Caught red-handed, hopin' that I'm dead stranded
Yet I'm still givin' the hood what the Feds handed
I cracked the code and played the cards from they hands, a gambit
When I grab the mic, I crush your stamina, you will be damaged
'Cause using big words don't make you lyrical
And goin' backwards in a swimmin' pool don't make you spiritual
So if I bought a brand new whip, they call it (wait a minute)
Damn, whatever the next line was, I'm ballin'
I'm the current boss, currency what I come across
And currently, I been sharp as a knife that's on current frost
Face, you a lost case, my life is all-state
It's in good hands and I'm never off-pace
Old school flows used for Your Old Droog
Pro-tools, more grooves turn to soul food
I'm doin' this 'cause I chose to
These other niggas suck, they doin' what these hoes do
For other MCs, the danger's imminent
Most likely I'ma air this shit out, make mothers reminisce
About a little rapper's delusion, thought he was infinite
Label heard the record and said (what shit is this?)

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