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