Verse1
I came from the gutter now I'm gunnin' for top
Burnin' ya shop - my beats blowin' up when it drop
Independently I rock when spittin' game
Remain gettin' change but the motto is still the same
B.A. got the ultimate brains breakin' the chains
Ordained in the gospel of rap - preachin' the facts
I'm black - bearin' witness to that - Throw ya hands to the sky
My battle cry is high till the day that I day
I'm addicted to the rhyme 'cuz all the time I find
I'm rippin' lines and fuck that i'm goin' for mine
See I do it for the love - it ain't about the papes
The dollars that I make be the icing on the cake
Playas can't hate my game is bullet proof-
Songs droppin' bombs on America's youth
Burnin' ya suit - Mash out the dollas and scoot
Droppin' it hot- but not sellin' out for tha loot
Verse 2
Now this is verse 2 let me keep shit clean
Hold up another minute you can see what I mean
Labels wanna play games its tha money that talk
I'm a bad muthafucka and I'm walkin' tha walk
Wanna promote this pop shit rap and rock shit
Fake thug rappin' on some fake as 'Pac shit
Shame how the mainstream lacks a brainstream
on each radio yo ya hearing the same thing
Say they wanna sign then they decline
With lines that there ain't enough thug in tha rhyme
What a crime when you gotta preach killin to sell
I rebel - yo ya fake A&R and advance can go to hell
It's all swell back at the ranch indeed
Droppin' these beats for 'delph so i shall proceed
Might die for the prize so I'd damn sure bleed
No price on rippin' mics you can fuck ya greed
Paroles2Chansons dispose d’un accord de licence de paroles de chansons avec la Société des Editeurs et Auteurs de Musique (SEAM)
