First of First

[Verse 1: Voice A]
Mind your own game—then watch who takes the room.
Pool sharks lean back, winoes sip their brew.
Legs crossed, dollars tossed, pick a song to play,
while the old crew talks like they own the place.
Moving work like Jehovah’s witnesses, greatness
never seen like this, no need to explain it.
Counting millions before catching the bus,
small bills folded, all of us in a rush.

[Verse 2: Voice B]
Backpacks, Dora, just the explorer,
full of twenties back when they were brown faces.
Original Jordans, no retro packs,
they understand we aren’t duplicates.
Everything rocked is first of first,
no taste-testing, straight from the source.
Show real street flow, no mimic in the booth,
a lyrical MC with the uncut truth.

[Hook: Both]
First of first, let the whole room know,
first of first, let the back row know.
No copy, no copy, we came with our own,
no copy, no copy, the voice is our own.

[Verse 3: Voice A]
The cue ball waits while the old man grins,
he knows which pocket every story ends in.
A dollar hits the machine, somebody picks a tune,
and three old heads sing it a half-step soon.
They laugh at the kid with the new white shoes,
then ask where he found that old-school groove.

[Verse 4: Voice B]
I keep my receipts in a pocket I sew,
not for the tax man, just proof of the road.
The twenty had faces we knew from the fold,
now everybody’s asking what stories got sold.
My laces stay tied and the soles stay plain,
I don’t need a rerun to call it my name.

[Hook: Both]
First of first, let the whole room know,
first of first, let the back row know.
No copy, no copy, we came with our own,
no copy, no copy, the voice is our own.

[Verse 5: Voice A]
They say, “Who made that?” I say, “We did.”
No borrowed walk, no borrowed ad-lib.
A little bit reckless, a whole lot precise,
we count what we earn and we spend it twice.

[Verse 6: Voice B]
Pool sharks still call the next game in,
brew in their hands and a crooked grin.
The young ones pick songs like they’re picking a side,
then pass that dollar and let it ride.

[Hook: Both]
First of first, let the whole room know,
first of first, let the front row know.
No copy, no copy, we came with our own,
no copy, no copy, the voice is our own.

[Outro: Voice A]
A last coin spins by the speaker grille.
Voice B: Somebody’s song is playing still.
Voice A: The next one’s mine.
Voice B: Keep the change.

Lyrical street rap, two voices taking turns, grounded storytelling, nimble conversational flows and sharp internal rhymes, a stripped boom-bap feel with a confident, unvarnished delivery.