Soul Lyrics - Hodgy Beats

[Intro: Hodgy Beats] 

Spit game, spit game 

Taught him how to spit game 

I teach him how to spit game 

They digesting, this shit flame 

I taught him how to spit game 

Yeah, yeah 

[Verse 1: Hodgy Beats] 

I'm spitting game to my son, his name is Trenton 

I told him it's not about a title, name, or an emblem 

Doing cut outs for my album while I'm sitting with him 

[?] individualism, you get the wisdom 

And I ain't gon' lie, I'm fresh and I'm driving [?] 

Don't want to be bittersweet in the streets 

Gotta get to the honey hive 

On your mark set, [?] up next when I die 

Stick to your gun, gripping your nine 

This only one, the only one, my only son, I call him my sunshine 

Took time away from my work, it was worth the time 

Haters sending subliminals knowing I'm sublime 

I spit it punchline after punchline 

It's crunch time, cause if it's not we get no lunchtime 

Round of applause, you bust back, I busta rhymes 

Read the fine print, [?] I'm doing fucking fine 

Tryna to stop me, I'ma press play, and then rewind 

To remind me that Hodgy Daddy's one of a kind 

And I'm not one to look into the past much 

Look into the past and there's nothing to find 

[Hook: Hodgy Beats] 

I taught him how to spit game 

I teach him how to spit game 

They digesting, this shit flame 

I taught him how to spit game nigga 

I teach him how to spit game 

They digesting, this shit flame, shit flame 

Know what I'm saying 

[Verse 2: Hodgy Beats] 

I remember being a kid, pediatric 

Niggas talking shit, they never see me ad-lib 

They distracted by a nigga's mind who is abstracted 

I need a pen and pad then jotted down some rap shit 

I'm watching my back but never looking backwards 

I take the pen and get the ink from black squids 

I had a vision and my mind on tactics 

My mind's a bag of tricks, my nigga magic 

Never subtracting, always added this mathematics 

I take my good days with my baddest, this havoc madness 

The sword is sharper than the tongue and I slash your dragons 

Producing raps like farmer's markets, I pass a radish 

[?] the cash, first I scan it then added taxes 

You could bag it, organize it man, apparatus 

[?] live a dream then have a dream, imagine that shit 

Tripping on [?] 

[Verse 3: Ben Great] 

I remember I was back shy back in the C-I-N 

Damn, where should I begin 

Started making jams, a seven year old kid 

Learned to play the blues, I been hitting the [?] 

Then I went to school to study about the shit 

Fell in love with music, forever you be my fam 

Thank you for your time, you know my mind expand 

Put me on game to live, love, and chance it 

God got the answers, I still be having questions 

How long it's gon' take for me to finally be an asset 

How long it's gon' be before these records turn to smashes 

I don't need the hype, I just [?] with the classics 

Back when music was really bout the passion 

Keep your private jet, I'm just tryna drive the Atlas 

Y'all could see the world through a bird's eye view 

I want to travel through the trenches, keep it gutta and true 

Cause when you make it to the top, they start obstructing your view 

And then they act like the forget when they was fucking with you 

But that made me learn a lot, it ain't nothing to [?] 

So I be pushing through the block, I'm pulling up on you, nigga