On Point.

On point.

Kickin’ it harder than the kicks I go hard on.

Backyards beware.

The backyard be where,

The hustle resonates from the fibers

Of a washed denim.

Throwback fitted with the snaps to match.

Snapback on the fitted hat.

I’m vintage.

Roll out the vino.

Roll up the cuffs.

Reppin’ — ’cuz if looks could kill,

I’d have ‘em rollin’ up with cuffs.

Check it.

Already got something on the wrist.

Net worth? Only time will tell.

But, don’t snitch.

On some slim fit shit.

Phones too big to fit in these slim fits,


Called it.

Ain’t trippin.

Just a Swoosh on the feet.

Cross the leg up faster than I got a leg up –

On the homies still wondering if double breasted pockets is on fleek.

I’m lifted.

Switched to airplane mode,

Cuz the game’s at 30 thousand.

Ring the alarm.

It’s Daylight Savings.

Call that holding a Pabst in broad daylight -


That’s what I’m about.

Deposit this style in the nearest Chase account.

On point.

Jaw line is tight.

But it’s 5 o’clock, so the shadow’s on the joint.

On my Iron Throne game.

Just leanin’ back on some terror squad fame.

Kingdom is BK.

I’m catching fire. Grab the burner.

Been at this. I’m like Katniss-

On some patio furniture.

Connect the dots.

Leave an impression then I’m post-impressionist,

Georges Seurat.

I’m on point.

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