This is a song about "Lana del reys microphone"

Where we can drink liquor and no one bickers over trick shit

Notice it every time i pick up the microphone and spit

I have the patience to let other mcs get on the microphone

I know i ain’t perfect, i’m out here working for the throne

Hand me a microphone, and watch the crowd just holla, yo,

The hot-box vehicle like breathing out the window

The white boy sees this as a clearance, now its

Microphone is a plane,mcs are pilots

I got a dollar and a dream, real niggas on my team

I melted microphone instead of cones of ice cream

I tell them killers they ain't figure what they fightin' for

Well its the microphone blaster skill advance enhancer

I'll whip a 750 if it's black on chrome

And im hoppin on the microphone