F**k all that patient s**t, they wan’ argue
I ain’t take the bait for s**t, this ain’t art school
F**k your lil’ high-brow critique
Before I bow to feet, ain’t walked down my street
Never been the “that’s the way it is” type of dude
F**k that, I’mma tell you how it is, type of mood
Bust that, type of moves light the fuse to bring light
To that type of bruise so deep under that people scared
We can only feel it, but we can’t see it
Lot’ these dudes only type it, they can’t be it
Champion any man, region, f**k what cam be in
Can’t beat them when they can’t see them
On that freedom man being
Yeah, and I barely ..
But trust that I beat Diddy on any care lingo
Keep with me, many dare to think so bright
But the blood of fakes though and it’s very rare the ink glow
But honestly f**k a rap compliment
What the f**k’s a ball to a prophet, b***h?
What the f**k’s a threat to the option-less?
I need this s**t to breathe and I gots to live
Yeah, thing the time is yours, ’cause online is yours
That’s what you grindin’ for?
Watch when we cut the net, like the final four
I bet you don’t got the chest to back that lion’s roar, p***y
Yeah, push me, I promise
I’m used to stress, all I could be is honest
I used to fret that I couldn’t even keep conscious
Thanks to my weakness, I could be the strongest out
Situation game critical
Stop playing with me this year y’all, I tried to tell y’all
I’m not playin’ no fu*kin’ games this year
Don’t look at me no type of way
Don’t fu*kin’ s- fu*kin’ subtweet me, whatever you wan’ do
Don’t do s**t this year, look
I’m no stranger to anger and rage
Getting aimed at my head by a lame
‘Cause they name got some fame, but they so insecure
That they keep themselves locked away
And I get to be the real me all up in their proximity
Who the one that got you stressed, lil’ me?
Stop throwin’ stones ‘fore you get the boot for the Sicily
I make the jazz cats listen to raps
I make the hood kids listen to sax
I make the white dudes understand which straws they pull out they a*s
I got err’body givin’ me dap
Craft never speak to just one ol’ faction
That picture’s incomplete, that’s a demo-graphic
Yes, the whole team’s ’boutta be N-O backwards
Won’t stop ’til the whole scene accept no actors
The music gon’ eventually bring me power, word to 50
If I’m the chosen one, it’s only ’cause I picked me
Let a label manager or agent try to Taylor Swift me
I’ll have a custom grave tailored swiftly, you dig me?