Artist: Joey Bada$$ f/ Styles P
Album:  ALL-AMERIKKKAN BADA$$
Song:   Super Predator
Typed by: Cedmaster3K

[Intro: Joey Bada$$]
Yeah, just ride with a nigga
("America's number one, you can bet on yo life")
("Yo-yo-yo life, yo-yo-yo life")
Statik Selektah, ride with a nigga like
("America's number one, you can bet on yo life")
("Yo-yo-yo life, yo-yo-yo life")

[Joey Bada$$]
Call me the general, pushin' that new agenda through
For my millennials, troubled youth and the felons too
Tryna be perennial but chance of livin' is minimal
She critical, exactly what made my niggas criminals
Typical America, damn sure ain't no miracle
Word to Steezy, I'ma keep this shit lyrical
'Til I fall out my physical, all my verses is biblical, uh
Flowin' religiously, my delivery spiritual, uh
Feelin' invincible, this here is nothin' new
This is just principle, take notes if I were you
They say I'm a clumsy king, how I be droppin' jewels
But see the funny thing is I got lots to lose
Never no fucks to give, only one life to live
So I exchange my negative for a positive and it's all
Good Lord, the pen is way mighty than the sword
Who want war? I told you before
How I kicked in the door with the rugged raw
Back just to reinstall, what you niggas thought it was?
Yes I'm a veteran, you's just a comer up
I can teach you a lesson how to get your hunger up, homie yea
Kicked in the door with the rugged raw 
Back just to reinstall, what you niggas thought it was?
Yes I'm a veteran, you's just a come up
About to teach you a lesson how to get your fuckin' hunger up nigga

[Chorus 2X: Joey Bada$$]
Badmon, we ah run tings, yeah
Never let the tings run we, uh
All di gyal dem a come pree (hah)
But mi tell them that the buddy never come free, ayy (watch out!)

[Styles P]
Super predator, filthy America (hehehe)
Burn the newspapers, and the editors
My dead presidents ain't dead enough (uh-uh)
Blew a zip to the head, still ain't red enough
Pray to Jesus, hope he got you (I hope he got you)
No I'm not a chicken, I never listen to FOX News (never)
Niggas built the country but never givin' they props due (never)
Payin' for my people, I'm still payin' for my pops' dues (whattup pops?)
I'm royalty, my momma said it
I'm gold hearted, I'm scum headed
Lost soul in a promised land of promises
Vendetta mask on but no I'm not anonymous
Built on my lonely, no accomplices (my lonely)
Light a L up for my accomplishments (light up)
I'm a real nigga, it's not a lot of 'em (not a lot)
If they were, then the cops probably shot at 'em
Ghost

[Chorus]

[Interlude 2X: Joey Bada$$] 
("America's number one, you can bet on yo life") Whoooa
("Yo-yo-yo life, yo-yo-yo life") Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa
Whoooa, whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa

[Joey Bada$$]
Yeah, I stomp the grounds in my Timberland
Ain't nothin' colder than New York when that December in
The coldest shoulders, from average Joes and the simple mans
I pack the heat cause I'm known around to be simmerin'
That mean I'm finna hit the boilin' point like real soon
Man I've been heatin' up, my self esteem been on the moon
The flow is hotter than volcanic craters near the equator
Any debaters is simply haters, they know that I'm greater
I be countin' my paper, forever fuck all the majors
Did it all on my own, don't owe nobody no favors
It's clear, I'm heir to the throne, I've been the best in my zone
Internationally known, forever Brooklyn's own, I mean (come on)
But here's for the presidents, the Congressmen, the senators
Who got us all slavin' while they reapin' all the benefits
Got the world thinkin' that it's true 'bout what they said of us
America's worst nightmare, the super predator