You ain’t a gangsta, you a bitch with a beat.
Rhymefest, “More,” Blue Collar, 2006
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If you can’t live, you dying,
You give or you buy in.
Keep it real or keep it moving,
Keep grinding, keep shining.
You see, if you ever wanted to ever be anything,
There’d always be somebody that shoot down any dream.
There’ll always be haters, that’s the way it is:
Hater niggas marry hater bitches, and have hater kids.
First I snatched the streets, then I snatched the charts.
First I had they ear, now I have their heart.
Rappers came and went…I’ve been here from the start.
I seen them put it together, watched them take it apart.
What if somebody from the Chi that was ill got a deal on the hottest rap label around?
But he wasn’t talking ‘bout coke and birds, it was more like spoken word,
Except he’s really puttin’ it down.
I’m living three dreams:
Biggie Smalls’, Dr. King, Rodney King’s.
Cause we can’t get along, no resolution?
‘Til we drown all these haters…
Rest in peace to Whitney Houston
When you feeding on hate, you empty, my nigga. It shows.
Pain is joy when it cries, it’s my smile in disguise.
This is my time, this is my hour,
This is my pain, this is my name, this is my power.
If it’s my reign, then it’s my shower,
This pole position…I made a lane ‘cause they blocked ours.
And as for the critics, tell me I don’t get it.
Everybody can tell you how to do it, they never did it.
It seem like everybody dress tight now,
And I just want my credit.
‘What you doing in the club on a Thursday?’
She say she only here for her girl birthday…
They ordered champagne but still look thirsty,
Rock Forever 21 but just turned 30.
I wonder if these wack niggas realize they wack,
And they the reason that my people say they tired of rap.
I could let these dream killers kill my self-esteem,
Or use my arrogance as the steam to power my dreams.
I use it as my gas, so they say that I’m gassed,
But without it I’d be last, so I ought to laugh…
Never looking back or too far in front of me,
The present is a gift, and I just want to Be.
I don’t know what’s better: getting laid or getting paid.
I just know when I’m getting one, the other’s getting away.
My white girl Veronica, black girl Monica,
Got me celebrating Christma-Hanu-Kwanzaa-kah,
Rocking dashikis with a yarmulke.
You know that one auntie, you don’t wanna be rude,
…But every holiday, nobody eatin’ her food.
Success is what you make it, take it how it come.
A half a mil in twenties, like a billion where I’m from.
An arrogant drug dealer, the legend I become,
CNN said I’d be dead by 21.
Blackjack…I just pulled an ace,
As you looking at the king in his face.
Rappers spit rhymes that are mostly illegal,
MC’s spit rhymes to uplift their people.
Went from most hated to the Champion God Flow,
I guess that’s a feelin’ only me and LeBron know.
Sophisticated ignorance, write my curses in cursive.
You would think I would recycle by the way I found my last chick…cause all she wants is paper or plastic.
I’m not a ‘Businessman,’ I’m a Business… man! Let me handle my business, damn!