Lyrics Wale – 5 Minutes
Text:
This is only for the hip-hop lovers
You want that bullshit — turn the radio on
Skyzoo, Wale
The one and only, homey still Thelonius with it
No one that’s breathin’ is seen as an equal
Could breathe on the mic and give it epileptic seizures
They turn narcoleptic when them niggas start speakin’
Ridin’ in that ES with my Nefertiti queen
And eyes low, pardon me, hah
We smoke the kind of green that turn the Simpsons Bruce Lee on
Hi-Ya, the higher part of my hierarchy
My mind potent like you high off keys or something
Shit, we don’t believe none of them
Motherfucker, your career is a conundrum
And none drum, iller than Ninth Wonder
IV, no I can sell like mitochondria
I’m out the country, I’m jet lagging
They can’t see me, I’m like the team that brought Brett back
And I’m man-genie, flyer than the rest of them
Wale Ovechkin
Fuckin’ with that ice, them Landover niggas check ya
Check one-two, the mic is my weaponry
Lyrically or physically, step to me, you rest in peace
Watch what I do to beats, I don’t need no jewelery
I was underground but wasn’t trying to renew the lease
Yeah, hello mainstream, I’m a walking dollar bill ain’t a damn thing changed
Skyzoo:
I got mine while the rest of ya’lls was still looking
I’m top five, but no begging, dawg, I for real took it
Literally, if you say you feeling me, then you feel Brooklyn
(
Wale
Whatup!)
And I don’t do colorful jeans or shiny kicks
My shoe game is Penny in ninety-six
I move aim, hit ’em and final flip
Whether it’s a beat or a scam
I gave ya’ll wizardry with my hands
I made ya’ll want to be what I am
And as far as your fades I raised them all underneath where I stand
I’m pushing it for the corner
Keeping them on the hip
And, yup, I gave lyrics a reason to want to live
Fresh off the plane, Hong Kong, Beijing
Felt like I was home, the groupie love was the same
I’m Kobe in an orange jersey
And wrote this from 4:25 to 4:30, hah
Wale
Okay
Skyzoo
Yeah, I mean, I literally wrote that from 4:25 to 4:30
Wale
That’s about five minutes, guy
Skyzoo
For real
They call me, S-K-Y-Z-O-O
And I’m Wale Folarin, was raised on go-go
They style is so-so, my Louis from So-Ho
Hoping that hip-hop can surface and go-go again
They go major, the flow is no longer
So everything retro come across so corny
Everything from Bradfords to gimmick spitters
To every nigga who rap and say, ‘My shit’s different!’
So get with us or lose like them niggas
Spent more on these kicks than Pac-Man spent on strippers
Haha! This just the beginning of the, uh, you know, the whole process of this Back to the Feature mixtape
DC whatup?
BK whatup?
PG whatup?
MoCo whatup?
Let me do some shoutouts
Mo betta — what up?
UCB — what up?
Hey Sycamore, whatup?
You ain’t’ doing shit til you put 10 gees on fantasy football
That’s when you know you doing shit
Yeah, bitch
