Tunnel Vision - Dabrye, Guilty Simpson

Get in the ship, we’re about to take off!

OK, I, I’m coming

Here we go, up, up and away!

(One, two, two, two)

(Beats to Dabrye)

(Jealous shit)

Yo, uh, without fame, I’m making the rhyme hall

Spiked slimeballs, peddlin' signoffs

Tryna eat off the plate like wide balls

Razor the back of the blunt, no

Fire, it don’t get no flyer

Vodka, splash of papaya

No, I don’t preach to the choir

Even when my life look dire

I kept that tunnel vision, money mission

Peace to my bloodline

We need them plates, all fixin’s

We need sides and all, survived every rise and fall

The best daddy

Screamin' «Fuck 'em all!»

like a sex addict

More ties than a dress jacket

I clean up good, I’m doin' dirt wit' the dirt doers

In a beat up hood', Guilt'

We out there

Get it together, get it together

Get it together, get it together

Yo, uh, yo, I told y’all I’m special

Unique, one of one, none other, run for cover

Baby motherfucker

Wit' yo better half rollin' grams

Raise arms like a show of hands

So advanced, I’m deep wit' it

You should roll ya pants up

Pickup stronger than a Dodge Ram truck

Wit' the weight in the back, we take what we lack

Catch me in the club wit' the greats pourin' 'gnac

Like we own the joint, truth tellers

Never affected by the new sellers

Same shit in a new get up

I tell my engineer, «Loop that up

And go in like it’s flu weather.»

AD’s the family, no crew’s better

I bet that against whoever