[Intro]
I always wanted to rhyme on this sh**
Look, look
[Verse 1]
I'm too tired to be working now
Don't know if this rap sh** going to be working out
I still love doing it, but it's funny like
Music just another way to get your money right
Remember chilling freestyling on a wack beat
With the Puffs buckwilding in the back seat?
I used to send my tape out to my best friends
Now I send it out to critics in the West End
That's just how the game goes my dog, it's competition
I feel like I'm the only one who see what comp is missing cause they
Got the hoes and they got the chains, but they don't
Got the soul, no they ain't got the brains, but I don't
Got the nerve to say how I feel
So I put it on the page and that's how I deal
But this sh** ain't perfect, I'm just checking you
Cause pretty soon we're going to both see the reckoner
Yeah, we going to both see the reckoner
[Hook] x2
Mic check, 1-2 can ya'll hear me?
Can't no other rappers even get near me
Yeah, mic check on a beat
If you let Ace at it I might flex on a beat x2
[Verse 2]
Young Patawon the beat flows through
I'm the one ladies want to be close to
Cause I'm a dope rapper and my beats dope too
(No they not, motherf**er this an 8-bar loop)
sh**, you got me there, it's a Radiohead clip
With a kick drum and a snare drum that I ripped, I'm a
Long way off Kanye, but my flow icey as the visions of Dante
So I'ma stay a student of the game forever
And while they all snoozing I be doing it better
So ya'll can question me, disrespecting me, I will never second guess
No second best, no doubt, one second left
Cut to the middle MJ on these motherf**ers
My joints hot, Bengay on these motherf**ers
Rap master sensei to these motherf**ers
So listen what my pen say to these motherf**ers
[Interlude: Malcolm X]
Who taught you to hate yourself?
From the top of your head to the soles of your feet
No, bbefore you come asking Muhammad does he teach hate
You should who, yourself, who taught you to hate being what God gave you
[Verse 3]
I can't believe I let this bullsh** all up in my head
That if I want to sell then I got to build my cred
Well ya'll can check my cover letter and my resume because I'm guessing they
Forgot that I don't talk, I let the record play
I moved it to New York, but I started in the basement
I always been the best, that's why it's called Advanced Placement
And f** street credit I got AP Credit
I'ma raise all bars just as soon as ya'll set it
They said I couldn't rap, but I proved them wrong
Said I couldn't make hits, then I made this song
Now they say they love me, why'd it take so long?
I'm a first year freshman, I been rapping for 3
You rapping for the daps that's why they clapping for me
I'm just rapping for the pa**ion so the action is free
I'm puting on a damn show, so get your a** in the seat
I'm just laughing when they say I act irrationally
Because I'm pa**ing all my cla**es while I'm catching the heat
And ya'll be grasping on the mic, you need to pa** it to me
So I can ventilate the track while I'm catching the beat
[Outro]
Mr. Shock Shock x2
Let them know you in the building, Mr. Shock Shock
Yes sir, yes lord
Advanced Placement, Ace Shocka, uhh
(Yo Shock, man what the f** was that? That's how you ending the album?
Are you serious? Man, come on that's bull sh**. You got to do something harder than that
You got to d** with hoes, or something
Something we can put on in the club, let's go man. Damn)