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Yo, this shit keeps weighin me down, beatin me up |
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Like every day's governed by Murphy's Law |
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It never drops, but inside I'm, tied up |
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In stress knots and chains and bills that ain't paid |
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I damn near work for Dun & Bradstreet |
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Keep a bank card and a wallet for show, I hate empty spaces |
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Fill 'em with MetroCards that's been already took me places |
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Fun Passes, loose changes, gum wrappers, maybe numbers |
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Battery covers to CD players, and that's it |
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I got some plastic |
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But can't even use it, the bad credit's so drastic |
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Ask me bastard if I'm signed, I rhyme sick |
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But niggas is quick to turn they back on spitters with clits |
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Hit em with this, and ridiculous phrase flow that exit my lips |
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Hey yo, I mean my face, though |
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They still want chicks with tits and ass out |
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My respect is worth more than your advance cash-out |
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I'm fuckin you right in the ear |
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If these chicks did it you'd be catchin gonorrhea |
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The only thing I spread is tinnitus |
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Just tryin to keep this shit right |
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And for all of y'all askin when my joint droppin |
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Watch me this year |
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It's like. |
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[CHORUS] |
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Hustles don't get knocked, except the ones that |
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Fuck with my business and dough, you can forget that |
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I told you once it's not gangsta, it's just right |
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Don't get it fucked, I don't like to spit my shit twice |
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Keep your fake thuggin, afraid to get in fist fights |
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Glittery knuckles never made me shiver, buckle never |
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Knocka, this how I get down |
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I'ma have to do that again, so y'all can hear it |
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[CHORUS] |
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That's what I said, yeah yeah |
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Yeah |
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Yeah |
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[VERSE 2] |
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It's crazy how I'm still catchin with no major distribution |
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Slice through like guillotines, I'm precise with a execution |
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The definition of artist, past the hype and the business |
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So I paint the track like a canvas in post-impressionist style |
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Time keeps gettin postponed like Emmy Awards |
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My moms cataloguin my shit like she's Afeni Shakur |
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Many of y'all ain't even worth a penny for thoughts |
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So I ignore the rumors and the biters |
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More than y'all ignore the Unsigned Hype in The Source |
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Peace to Steady Rock and Tyson [Name] |
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And a big fuck you to bitch Chris Lombardi at Matador |
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And every A&R that turned me down |
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Props to kids who stayed loyal since "Baseball" dropped |
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And copped the underground, see, the barrel was facin me |
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Now I turn the gun around and it's got unlimited ammunition |
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I dare you to question, now they'll know I'm dressin |
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So don't skip through the record |
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But if you're lookin for some shit to bump in the ride, you should check it |
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[CHORUS] |
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Alright, alright |
|
One more time |
|
One more time |
|
[CHORUS] |
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What |
|
What |
|
What |
|
What |
|
What |
|
Get it? |
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Got it? |
|
Good |
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Let's get on with it then |
