Tekstovi: Elzhi. Brag Swag.

[Intro: Elzhi - talking]
Yeah, yeah
This your boy Elzhi
Finally here now
It's been a minute though
You know what I'm sayin?
I came up from nothin
Doin my thing, so I got the right to brag swag
Makin money off music I create

[scratching]
"Create"

[Verse 1: Elzhi]
Yo, the day that hell snowed is when El fold, poetry well told
It's entertainin, keep niggaz trainin like the railroad
Stingman, what I bring in is dope as the kingpen
Slingin, OG's threw me beneath the wingspan
Expert, through the less dirt, but still my tec squirt
Bucked, then it gets tucked in, just like a dress shirt
Been a beast in a winter fleece, time for your dinner feast
With a pen unleashed, if there's a priest, within a piece
Quick to lead, stick chicks of the thicker breed
Get fricker see with trigger speed, you puffin nigga weed
I buy hundred dollar bags, Cadillacs and polished Jags
Yeah, I show you how to brag, while the hours drag
Spit quotes that slit throats, bet it could split boats
Get votes off shit wrote, I'm the legit G.O.A.T.
And no statistic, to bitch niggaz I'm chauvinistic
I tote a biscuit, carry arms like shoulder discus ('scus)

[Chorus: scratching]
"You heard what I said"
"Makin money for the music that a nigga create"
"Makin money for the music that a nigga create"
"Nigga you heard what I said"
"Makin money for the music that a nigga create"
"Makin money, money"
"For the, for the, music that a nigga create"

[Verse 2: Elzhi]
Remain a fresh goon 'til my flesh prune
You'll need a vest soon, to catch a chest wound
Have you rest, above the crest moon
On your block, get your door knocked
Then by my warlocks, who wore glocks
And left you with stains too deep for Clorox
Run rap beneath sun cap, levels is untapped
Done laps around a spun mat, hoes get they buns slapped
Y'all panic for all static, that's what I call frantic
Lookin shookers to small planet, becomin volcanic
Off top, y'all soft pop, weak as a cough drop
I love cop, to stop in the mall, so I can club shop
Veteran, you better involve us all in the letterin
If I don't get your girl wetter than, I must have met her twin
Create rhymes that are straight bombs, and call 'em Napalm
I date dimes and maybe an eight, if she got great palms
'Nough said, get at a rough dread, so I could puff red
I cuff bread, I'm paid and got maids, that could fluff beds
I even snuff heads

[Chorus: scratching]
"Hey yo"
"Hey yo"
"Yo, yo"
"Nigga you heard what I said"
"Makin money for the music that a nigga create"...
"Nigga you heard what I said"
"Makin money for the music that a nigga create"
"Makin money for the music that a nigga create"

[scratched until the end]
"Create" [x8]