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Girls, don’t run that shit that beauty’s only skin deep,
Cause I don’t want no girl with a Brillo face,
Or the type that’ll leave Jheri Curl juice on my pillow case.
My life is a blunt to the head, a prayer for the dead,
Run around hustlin…scared of the feds.
They said death is eternal sleep,
But the only thing is you ain’t really sure if you prepared for the bed.
I’m a cold winter morning, y’all Summer’s Eve.
These internet thugs ain’t doin’ a thing,
Got caught with the Google Chrome…now they in the Bing.
I got a smile that’ll make the mirror crack,
And I seem to stay under clouds that’s pitch black.
So when it rains, it pours, and when it pours, I’m soaked.
I contracted lung cancer from third hand smoke,
And I’m like the frog that’s dying to be a prince,
The boy who cried wolf and no one was convinced.
The man who hit lotto and lost his ticket,
In a rainstorm…and struck by lightning trying to get it.
Life is real, reality is not a dream.
Those who chose to sleep…I wake em up,
Cause you’re sleepin with your mouth open hummin deez nuts.
Shorty, let me tell you about my only vice:
It has to do with lots of lovin’, and it ain’t nuttin’ nice.
Truth brings light, light refracts off the mirror,
Visions of yourself and error could never be clearer.
The truth is that you ugly…
Not on the outside, but in the inside;
On the outside, you frontin’ you lovely.
Don’t clock anybody, let them all clock you,
Don’t be down with anybody, let them all be down with you.
Stay self-managed, self-kept, self-taught,
Be your own man; don’t be borrowed, don’t be bought.
They’d rather hate you for the truth than love you for the lies.
What the fuck happened to reality-spitting rhyme sayers?
These days, everybody trying to be a thug or a player.
Where did all the real motherfuckers go in the game?
Bring back the breakdancers and graffiti writers with fame.
I switched my motto:
Instead of sayin’ ‘Fuck tomorrow,’
That buck that bought a bottle
Coulda struck the Lotto.
It was the beauty that caught me and held my soul hostage…
Remember those days? Had you smellin’ my boxers.
Why did one straw break the camel’s back?
Here’s the secret:
The million other straws underneath it.
This is for my bitches in the shelters that don’t need shelter, you just doin’ that shit for a crib.
And all my bad little bitches, when your baby father hits you, stick a ice cold knife in his ribs.
And all my bitches pimp the system, get your WIC, tell your workers, “Fuck that,” you gon’ have more kids.
And you ain’t have ‘em cause you need ’em, but now you gotta feed em, so you figure that your ass gon’ strip.
I’d rather make one righteous dollar on my level
Than make a million dollars spittin’ rhymes for the devil.
Through the fame, through the fire and the flames,
I adapt to the pain, real niggas do the same.
And though we homies and we no longer hang
You know you know me, and that love still remains.
Save your wack rhymes, hold your female.
Pass the Old Gold, trash the ale.
Cash your food stamps, get the WIC out the mail.
Love to eat shrimps, but I never eat snail,
Eat a whole fish except for the tail.
Keep food in the fridge so it don’t get stale,
And when there’s nothing to eat…I bite my nails.
A thug changes, and love changes,
And best friends become strangers.
Haters wanna ball, let me tighten up my draw string.
Wrong sport, boy, you know you’re as soft as a lacrosse team.
Working hard may help you maintain,
To learn to overcome the heartaches and pain.
Tried to put shame in my game to make a name,
I’mma put it on a bullet…put it in your brain.
I’m livin’ in times where my daughters are found around
Kids who can’t afford thinking caps…
But always found drinkin’ raps and eatin’ off beats,
Claimin’ laws of the streets. But who made the laws?
Everybody playin’ rebel with no sign of a cause.
Once I slapped a rapper with mace,
Then I spit acid in his face, after he rinsed his eyes, no wait…
I actually grew five times my size, grabbed Ma$e by the thigh and slapped a rapper with him.
These days you can’t see who’s in cahoots,
Cause now the KKK wears three-piece suits.
I’m on some tax-free shit by any means,
Whether bound to hit scheme or some counterfeit C.R.E.A.M.
Cocaine trafficking, your boy’s back again,
Moving bricks like I got a degree in scaffolding.
Fucking with some cats from Newark…half of them Jewish,
Cool white boys riding around, blasting my music,
And I’m taxin’ them like Jackson-Hewitt.
Hip-hop started on the block;
I fell asleep at the wheel, the shit crashed into Pop.
It’s like I’m married to the silencer,
Until I file for divorce and release my ex-calibers.
Do art with your arteries, place that for my adversaries,
Put your snap back cap back, cap your capillaries.
Could hate a person, but in fact it’s not worth it.
Never know how long you’ve got on this earth, kid.
Question religion, question it all,
Question existence until them questions are solved.
There’s four sides to every story…
If these walls could talk, they’d probably still ignore me.
Brooklyn: the home of the black and the beautiful.
For a rough rap sound, ain’t a place more suitable.
If you ain’t using all the talents God provided you with
For the betterment of Man, understand,
You ain’t nothing but a waste.
Whatcha gonna do to this?
You may be older than me, but you’re new to this.
Cause I been out there, queen of MC’s,
When your man was walkin’ round in mocknecks and Lee’s.
While you were over here perpetratin’ a fraud,
I was overseas on the charts with Boy George.
You’re the beginner, Shante’s the winner,
Havin’ other competition for dinner.
Sit you on the table with a plate and cup,
Say grace…and then eat your ass up.
Sorry, Mrs. Drizzy, for so much art talk;
Silly me rappin’ ‘bout shit that I really bought.
While these rappers rap about guns they ain’t shot,
And a bunch of other silly shit that they ain’t got.
About those other Jennys I reckoned with,
Lost them all like a homework excuse.
This time, the Magic Number is two,
Cause it takes two, not three, to seduce.
My destiny of love is brought to an apex,
Sex is a mere molecule.
In this world of love that I have for you
It’s true…Eye know I love you better.
Unpredictable, liable to flip my lid…
My moms dropped me on my head when I was a kid.
Back then I lost all my marbles, today I lost my job,
So in essence, it’s Armageddon, somebody’s bound to get robbed!
Real niggaz represent and don’t die,
Never dead, like I said, all we fuckin’ do is multiply.
It seems to me like all these people claim to be the victim,
Acting like the whole entire world is out to get them.
Stand up on your own,
And prove that you are grown,
Because the life that you save may be your own.
Why is the world round?
Why do the suckas bite?
Why do the freaks come out at night?
Why they paint Jesus white?
I sit and wonder why we breakin hip-hop laws,
Doing videos in houses that we know ain’t yours.
On the real, fuck your opinion.
I made it this far, and you broke.
I be tossin’, enforcin’, my style is awesome.
I’m causin’ more Family Feuds than Richard Dawson.
And the survey said: “You’re dead.”
Fatal Flying Guillotine chops off your fuckin’ head!
I am recognizing that the voice inside my head
Is urging me to be myself, but never follow someone else
Because opinions are like voices, we all have a different kind.
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.
Just ‘cause you got money don’t mean you made it.
Just ’cause you make it, don’t give you the right to be on that fake shit.
Bullets ain’t racial, kid…they only hate you.
I clock G’s while you clock Z’s.
And I don’t smoke crack…I smoke MC’s.
I came in the door, I said it before
I never let the mic magnetize me no more.
But it’s biting me, fighting me, inviting me to rhyme,
I can’t hold it back…I’m looking for the line.
Taking off my coat, clearing my throat,
My rhyme will be kicking until I hit my last note.
My mind’s my 9, my pen’s my Mac-10.
My target? All you wack niggaz who started rappin’.