Letras
I use to smoke a lot
I know you’ll hear it
The game is in a state of emer
Back in the day
And it chose me
Kicked around and stepped on
I don’t expect you to understand
To be one of the realest
Hallucinogenic records
‘Till I die
I would never look back again
The past, is the past, so let’s leave it at that
Don’t call it a comeback
Jesus Christ, alright, let’s go
The prophecy offered me the option to autopsy
On Hip-Hop it was written like Nas's discography
Nostradamus philosophy, obvious copies, predictable
Eminem emulators spittin simple similes and multi syllables trying to fill a mold
I called you copy cats, same song and dance, its common fact
Got everyone's head noddin’ like they're high up off the poppy plant
‘Complish that before we talk splittin’ shows 50/50
Cause at those, I got fans rappin’ along like they did this shit with me
Quit tryin’ to piggyback off me, then act salty
When you call me to meet up, bitch, I don't even drink coffee
I can grow shiitake mushrooms, from my shit talking
Even though I’m a little bit cocky, I gotta be
Father never wanted me to me to be dishwashin’
How are these people suppose to be seeing their favorite artist
When they charge us, seventy five, to a hundred dollars per concert
It's obvious who the target audience is, the ones who drive Audis
Not Honda Civics, and that's common, but not like Lonnie Lynn is
I got a laundry list of problems, as long the controversy
That's constantly follows the genre, since comin’ Straight Outta Compton
And these cock suckers are makin’ a dollar whenever the gods spit
But that's a double entendre, cause you're still making a prophet (profit)