My Name Is, Pt. 2 - Bodega Bamz, Joell Ortiz, Tego

These motherfuckers want to say I’m wack?

Bet next year I’m a have a Grammy nominated track

All black with a tan flag, ever since Spofford

Papi let his pants sag, kiss ass

Ya’ll rappers trash, kings of the underground

Well, my mainstream flow to the cash

My future always look bright in the past

I’m a hit at least one, sixteen in the mag

RLX when I skeet

The youth been dead, so I rose up

With a hundred million roses like Fergie

How much the key weighing, like Bugaloo

In Above The Rim been fucking with a birdy

Middle fingers up, washing both hands early

In the A. M, get the worm out the Rotten Manazana

Meaning mama’s and mamajuanas

That will suck my dick like a Slurpee

All money clean cause the streets did me dirty

Now I’m trying to be a millionaire before thirty

New, improved Carlo Brigante, hop off the stretcher

Go get your favorite artist and tell him Bodega’s better

I’m a Microphone Fiend word to the 1−8 letter

Still serve addicts, cooking in the cellar

Pitch black lungs, fucked up liver

I’ma die young, I’m a born killer

Fucked up lungs, pitch black liver

I’ma die young, I’m a born killer

My name is Papi!

A todo lo que tu se lo mama

'Ta chotiando, cumpliendo vida (Que feo)

Compadre, si tuviera tiro

Vendiera libreta o vendiera kilo (My name is Papi!)

Lo meno que usted haria seria dicerlo (Que claro)

Muy poco bandito llega vivo a retiro (Muy poco!)

El futuro es presidio (My name is Papi!)

And ya’ll know me

The big homie (Yaowa!)

J-O-E double puff, puff, pass

Took your bus pass on the way to high school

Cause you was phony

Of course, no longer in school am I

But the same rules apply

You might fool these guys

With all them groovy lies

'Bout how you move these pies

This ain’t no movie, pai

Niggas next to me’ll take all of your jewelry, why?!

Cause niggas 'bout it, 'bout it

What you gonna do besides pout about it?

Want to put on a show?

There’ll be a body with a crowd around it

Cut crack, grind dope, use scissors for bush

You could beam, nod off or get a hit of this kush

I rap but I ain’t these rapper niggas

Still wears slippers on the bench

And won’t flinch when they clapping niggas

Might hear me on the radio

See me in these videos

Yeah, I’m fucking one of these silly hoes

So?

That’s what niggas do

When they hustling and what they spit is true

Nigga, my chips is woooooooo

Whip is blue, interior Winnie The Pooh

Your lady neck will twist like The Exorcist

When I spin it through (Hello)

I’m just a Brooklyn boy

Them E-Readers couldn’t book your boy

These street sweepers’ll unhook your boy

From life support, try me

No need to look around, I did this to you

My name is Papi!

(My name is Papi!)

Oye, mamabicho (Dile!)

Deja de mentira

A todo lo que tu se lo mama

'Ta chotiando, cumpliendo vida (Que feo)

Compadre, si tuviera tiro

Vendiera libreta o vendiera kilo (My name is Papi!)

Lo meno que usted haria seria dicerlo (Que claro)

Muy poco bandito llega vivo a retiro (Muy poco!)

El futuro es presidio (My name is Papi!)

O protección de testigo, cantochota!

(Oooooohh)

Arranca pa carajo, hombre no?!

Que, que?

What, What!