...I'm at the table like the Godfather, smoking a dutch I'mma let the world know what time it is Life on earth is just a death sentence One little thing just leads to the next thing...
[Hook 1] I got some records, custom samples, made 'em mine I wrote some raps, I had a couple fire lines I dropped a tape, I did a show, I got some shine Never made a lot of money; that's fine
I got some records, custom samples, made 'em mine I wrote some raps, I had a couple fire lines A couple labels asked me if I want to sign But rapping ain't my grind, I just used to like to rhyme
[Verse 1] I used to like to rhyme when it was other peoples lyrics Spitting Raekwon bars to the mirror just to hear if It sounded the same, dreams of insurmountable fame Invaluable change, spit so much I drowned before the drought ever came And that's the shit that never leaves you Every line you rhyme leaves facts and cats that teach you See through, right around the time of players regroup Started making beats too Never tried to please you Numerous influences, but that was only clowning dog [?] me pursuing, it was nothing I was counting on Seemmed too far to go the distance, pitching from the mound I'm on Lift off, doubted on, thought the map was routed wrong Since this was the tag along, hit me like an atom bomb So I give it up to those who let us have a job All you rappers stacks as long as me the same sad song Crystal sessions, Smith and Wesson, west half of the word is marathon
[Hook 2] Art is imitation Creation is forever Innovation is spontaneous Never A lot of rappers put they work in so you could be clever Everything is everything is everything is everything, ever
The blues weren't born in a bunker Nothing can be born until you know how to hump her Im still married to America, most you rappers dump it But you too blind, vacant, to see the spell they got you under
[Hook]
[Verse 2] I used to like to rhyme when it was all about linguistics When Big L verses was like decoding hieroglyphics Back when my mission was still in composition books Working how I spit the hook and how my mic position look Adolescent crook, lost up in the maze Breaking beverly, rapping in my book was a phase that weighed heavily Rearranging bars and then they properly placed Whole pages scribbled black from all the sloppy mistakes Made a promise that I'd go and split a guap for my ace If I ever made a mill' for merely rocking the place
I used to like to rhyme when there was never any pressure When your own bars was stone cold, beat you on the stretcher It wasn't business it was pleasure I heard God through a boombox lampin' on my dresser Hip-Hop, the most progressive music in the bunch Written tracks from '05 on a flat back, lunch 'Cus we move ahead every 30 seconds So hows it been 40 years and all we fucking rap about is weapons?
[Hook 1]
[Hook 2]
[Outro] ("Birds upon the railroad then laid in the lonesome grave")