I got Foreign on the beat
They can't seem to see the forest for the trees
According to your peeps, you're too corny to compete
Ain't my fault they find it borin' when you speak, that's lame shit
Won't no label take a portion of the fee
I just need 'em to support it in the streets
Up in the mornin' while you're snorin' in your sleep
Hit the studio, record it, and release, same day shit
Whether it's the Porsches or the beats
I'll never put a foreign on a lease
I'm just tryin' put some Forgis on the feet
Floor it, hit the corner, and then flee, no fake shit
We heard you been reportin' to police
You just wanna be the story of the week
Scorch 'em with the heat, flame-broilin' the beef
They sure to have this chorus on repeat, we make hits
Everything Foreign like Fivio
This shit is easy, I been doin' it since nine years old
Saw your CD in the clearance bin at Five Below
Hit ya when ya near ya kin so you ain't gotta die alone
All that gang shit you claim that you slidin' on
Saw your name in them statements like you writin' blogs
You probably at the station on a ride along
Extendo on the Glock if we find the opps
Don't let 'em catch ya on the block with ya diamonds on
They'll sell ya back your own watch like consignment shops
They only gettin' half the worth if they try to pawn
Just gotta say the magic words and your ice is gone
Abracadabra, ya man's a cadaver
These rappers ain't active, they actually actors
Seems like their words and their actions are backwards
They just sayin' that shit so you react to it faster
I got Foreign on the beat
They can't seem to see the forest for the trees
According to your peeps, you're too corny to compete
Ain't my fault they find it borin' when you speak, that's lame shit
Won't no label take a portion of the fee
I just need 'em to support it in the streets
Up in the mornin' while you're snorin' in your sleep
Hit the studio, record it, and release, same day shit
I'm a God, that's a problem for Pagans
All that slick talk and anonymous statements
Bet when shit pop you are not gonna say shit
You could hear a pin drop, bitch, drop ya location
You don't want the smoke, no Marlboro or Basic
We runnin' the game, no Reebok and no ASICS
Face it, if there's anything we want, we just take it
Don't call me fam if you're not a relation
When we finished, you gon' need to hit the doctor for facelifts
Call it malpractice, the loss of my patience
No days off, ain't no tropic vacations
They jockin' my language, they copy and paste it
I'm tryin' figure out what's the cause of the hatred
Victory so close I can probably taste it
Ain't got your song in rotation, it's not on my playlist
Turn this on, when the bass hit, you know Foreign Made It
I got Foreign on the beat
They can't seem to see the forest for the trees
According to your peeps, you're too corny to compete
Ain't my fault they find it borin' when you speak, that's lame shit
Won't no label take a portion of the fee
I just need 'em to support it in the streets
Up in the mornin' while you're snorin' in your sleep
Hit the studio, record it, and release, same day shit
Spit it with ease, do this shit in my sleep
Your shit is trash; matter fact, that's just litter to me
Told ya we on fire but you didn't believe
He a liar if ever say he slid on the team
Look, you better stay clear of us
I'ma warn ya, but you're only gonna hear it once
Like I'm celibate, I don't give zero fucks
I'm in my element, no time for the hero stuff
That's why you witnessin' the Rise of a Villain
Better hide in ya building, I ain't tryna frighten your children
You ain't never seen this kind of resilience
The scientific mind of a cynic shinin' with brilliance
Sky is the limit, got my mind on a million
I'm just tryna stack the c-notes as high as a ceiling
My damaged ego is the size of a village
I kill 'em with every mothafuckin' rhyme that I've written
I got Foreign on the beat
They can't seem to see the forest for the trees
According to your peeps, you're too corny to compete
Ain't my fault they find it borin' when you speak, that's lame shit
Won't no label take a portion of the fee
I just need 'em to support it in the streets
Up in the mornin' while you're snorin' in your sleep
Hit the studio, record it, and release, same day shit
I got Foreign on the beat
Everything I spit is important and unique
Starin' at my shorty, she's so gorgeous when she sleeps
I might go and drop your mortgage on a ring
You ain't from here, you a tourist in the streets
Might cop the Taurus GX4 because it's cheap
In the Chevy with the heat on the floor or on the seat
Never see me in a Ford or in a Jeep
Three Rivers, MI, based hip-hop artist A Rapper Named Nati has been penning rhymes since 1996. He met Dutch producer Rob Maestro in high school, circa 2004. Fifteen years later, the pair have been anointed Self-Proclaimed Kings. (Pronounced “notty.”)
Recorded at the rapper's Brooklyn apartment during lockdown, this album offers poignant reflections on the uncertain decisions defining the uncharted territory of today's reality. Bandcamp Album of the Day Jul 21, 2020
An 18-minute instrumental hip-hop suite from the Philly beatmaker, inspired by ’70s thriller movies from India, China, Europe and beyond. Bandcamp New & Notable Jul 7, 2021
