Spitta n***a you know me or either you know of me Witnessed traces of my swagger But it was being presented to you by other rappers These n***as is actors, consumed by their roles Thinking that they are really that n***a they created in their fictitious lyrics Perfect example given, of life imitating art These n***as is lost in the sauce I'm partying in a downtown loft Thanking God that I'm finally getting on And praying for the talented rappers who still off What a n***a gotta do to get through? Do I gotta record a verse in auto-tune too? sh** Let me stay away from that Before n***as misconstrue it and label this a diss track These are just facts, spitta snap like a slim jim You just realizing that I'm that n***a homeboy I been him Could keep the mixtapes up month to month continuously But I figured that my words would lose their validity To the ingrates who don't appreciate my mixtapes Taking for granted my rhymes Because they hearing new ones all the time I'm about to take a sabbatical dog And let these late bloomers get hip to spitta's catalog Real n***as I'm not turning my back on ya'll Real b**hes I ain't giving up on rap for ya'll I'm just pausing for the people who slow And let them learn the sh** you already know Muthaf**a you know b**hes know the planes got it Jets n***a, where haven't we been yet? My name is in the streets, my name is my name