Cardo - 23 lyrics

[Hook] I put the work in like number 23 Grew the fruits of my labor from a money tree Made my business my pleasure so it's fun to me I keep the faith and I leave the hate under me I put the work in like number 23 Grew the fruits of my labor from a money tree Made my business my pleasure so it's fun to me I keep the faith and I leave the hate under me Watch me elevate my game to the highest level I'm leavin' full speed ahead foot on the pedal Why'd they desire to slash my tires and only throw pebbles? I'm never off course, they'll never know my level So enter Golden Era like we won four medals ‘Cause my team can't be beat and that's why we defeat these devils See, we can win it all once we win our division So we always take advantage of the chances we've been given Plus we keep it UPS, and deliver with precision Proficient rhymes, we take the heat and make a great decision But every MJ needs a Pippen And Michael dreamt about the titles Now it's written Can't forget the Dream Team, that's when he had it MJ with Larry, David, and played with Magic True to form, the uniform's not faded fabric Truth and the mindful pursuit, no dated habit So keep in mind that talent wins games, but brains win the rings When Phil came in, the Bulls became Kings So I receive what I need, like I'm David Patten I don't want, I don't wish, I just make it happen [Hook] b**h I'm ballin', you just be the referee Flow on a higher pedigree, buss it ‘til you rest in piece (peace) Somethin' like MJ on the mic, I'm a f**in' beast Couldn't make it the league but I'm like an athlete on funky beats Chevy on '95, goin' ‘bout 93 Smokin' swishas to the head, the clouds is where you findin' me Eatin' with this green like I done swallowed some lima beans I'm spittin' dictionaries, teach ya s**as what rhymin' means Ya style's holier than swiss cheese, you too phony Bet ya ho miss me, treats my dick like a cannoli Your substance be like skull and bones, you frontin' hoe' Hold the phone ‘Fore you quit ya day job Play god and your blasphemous tactics get you in a supposed accident Attack you and them wack quacks you wit Packin' spliffs in my Retros press close on the elevator door ‘Bout to soar, hit it big like Jordan in ‘84 [Hook]