I don't how to be wack
I am just that ill
I don't know how to be fake
I am just that real
YAOWA!!!
Yeap it's none other
Brooklyn dun duh duh
Not Big Pun but a
Yes I am Puerto Rican and what I'm speaking is scratch
Call me a beat f**er
I am always freaking the track
You n***as are meat s**ers
There is no defeating the facts
Every time your teeth flutter
Ya tongue releasing the wack
I had been done around the world and put my piece on the map
Met every kind of girl and put my meat on their back, I'm
Within my race and the lead is so comfortably
As**ual
Only I can f** with me
This ghetto boy wants the life of luxury
My notebook neat
But I write disgustingly
Lately hip hop had been real light
No worry
I am Dr. Conrad Murray
I k**ed Mike
Who want with me
Who want with me
I'll ask again
Who want with me
Who want with me
Well grab a pen
Write something
Record it and let the game listen
And then I'll put in it on the menu for next Thanksgiving
And bring your lil rap out on a dish
I'm Len Dykstra
I black out when I spit
Yeah
I am on a different kind of mission
I want a five star bathroom because I never had a pot to piss in
I want a chef cause there were mice in my project kitchen
I want a pool
Not the hood one where the lockers are missing
I want bar so we can toast
Here's a shot to living
I want b-ball court
My jump shot is sickening
I want Louies cause my nikes at the bottom are ripping
I want a drop without having to pop the ignition
I want a pit and have the diamonds on his collar glisten
I want a yacht
Yeah I want to do a lot fishing
I want guac so I can tell the doc listen
I need a clone
Cause that's the only way I'll have some competition