Artist: Lord Superb f/ Un Pacino
Album:  Superb Clientele
Song:   Pop Ya Collars Pt. 2
Typed by: pneumatic

[Un Pacino]
Yeah, Uh huh, It's going down
Yeah, Uh huh, Yo
Me and Perb go back like bikes, Bananas on it
When I first heard this song, (Be gone) Bananas on it
Now I'm so in depth with the track and I standing on it
You see how them breaks just come and I'm landing on it
You see with every punch line is like firing a gun
Or completion of two albums, I'm retiring young
A going somewhere sandy, Ocean front land piece
Lamping while yall still sitting in the Camry’s
Sand beach, I'm talking bikinis and margaritas
Remind me of the Broadway play, (Mama Mia)
Two with me but I'm still tryna find me a Mama mia
I'm on the beach calling bitches like Mace, (Mama sita)
Yeah, You know I'm tryna rise to the top
I get on I'm throw'n at least five pies to the block
(Ten pounds) Six hazy, Four pounds of the sour D
And put a stool in the hood, Buy two, (A hour free)
And if you really that nice no charge, Your hour's free
In the sixties had it pop'n, Fiends coming from Howard beach man

[Interlude: Lord Superb]
I remember that man, I remember that man
That was when, We was living that gangsta life
Yeah, You don't know nothing about it
Living that gangsta life, You don't know about me
We were living that gangsta life
You aint never been a project nigga
That gangsta life, And you aint never gone be

[Lord Superb]
Nigga I aint just write ya album, I produced it
Put your mic together, Showed you how to use it
Without me you useless, They know what the truth is
Phantom of ya hits, Know they know who the truth is
We was off a cruise ship, Everything exclusive
Now you a studio gangsta, A Mike "booth" Vick
Yeah Ghost, I'm talking bout you nigga
They wanna know why this little nigga go this hard
It's prophecy, I get my verses from the poet Gods
Made it Hell on Earth, Every show is Mars
Before I met Ghost, Ghost aint go this hard
I aint write every rhyme, But his flow is mine
I aint writing nothing else, See if he blow this time
But that shit won't happen till his soul refined
Tell em, He aint just a rapper he an older man
I guess I'm not, He nature, I gotta hold his hand
Keep it on some rap shit, I know that he fam
I could get close, Like sit at his table and cut his ham
World full a=of children and God, Devils helping
Understand, I'm the reason they jealous
When I rock velour my sneakers is velvet
My chain cause pneumonia, There's no zirconia
Gotta move the bed rocks, Said I'm too stoned up
Charged with statutory rape, My rims was too grown up

Ha haha ha, Get the fuck outta here nigga