I'm from the stars, son
Concrete full of cracks, and [?] of the reasonable doubt
Be ready to dive slumbs
This lexic to [?] mentally blind,numb
Bipolar of education, we was deprived young
Kids wear jewels before they could fit the size one
Timberland boots with the trees from which they got hung
I got bad nerves, always twittering my thumbs
Feet tappin' the floor like I'm playin' the live drum
People that I trust, they cross me
Them guns done, they stab in the back
Was paralysing , I'm numb
Nobody believing life [?] where I'm from
Everybody got a chip, then somebody dies, son
Say you got that drip, what happens it dries, son?
Brand new outfit and empty pockets
Fly bump, I ain't floats to most of these rappers
They really rhyme, son
Set a great example, I gave you power like Nas gun
Who should I sign with?
Add them, but just remind them you're signed in a beast just like Fat Joe when he signed ‘pon
To all the killers and the hundred-dollar billers
The real ni**as who ain't got no feelings
To all the killers and the hundred-dollar billers
The real ni**as who ain't got no feelings
I'll rap with these when writing
All I need is bag of weed, pack of seeds
Few daiquiris and watch what happens, Geez
Walking out the buff like Joe Jefferson's
[?]
Graduate with rap degrees,
If you went to church with my grandmother
You had the same, or she gon' hit you offside your head
With the tambourine
I eat [?]
I cooked by your lavish queen