F**k all that patient s**t, they wan’ argue I ain’t take the bait for s**t, this ain’t art school F**k your lil’ high-brow critique Before I bow to feet, ain’t walked down my street Never been the “that’s the way it is” type of dude F**k that, I’mma tell you how it is, type of mood Bust that, type of moves light the fuse to bring light To that type of bruise so deep under that people scared We can only feel it, but we can’t see it Lot’ these dudes only type it, they can’t be it Champion any man, region, f**k what cam be in Can’t beat them when they can’t see them On that freedom man being Yeah, and I barely .. But trust that I beat Diddy on any care lingo Keep with me, many dare to think so bright But the blood of fakes though and it’s very rare the ink glow But honestly f**k a rap compliment What the f**k’s a ball to a prophet, b***h? What the f**k’s a threat to the option-less? I need this s**t to breathe and I gots to live Yeah, thing the time is yours, ’cause online is yours That’s what you grindin’ for? Watch when we cut the net, like the final four I bet you don’t got the chest to back that lion’s roar, p***y Yeah, push me, I promise I’m used to stress, all I could be is honest I used to fret that I couldn’t even keep conscious Thanks to my weakness, I could be the strongest out Situation game critical Stop playing with me this year y’all, I tried to tell y’all I’m not playin’ no fu*kin’ games this year Don’t look at me no type of way Don’t fu*kin’ s- fu*kin’ subtweet me, whatever you wan’ do Don’t do s**t this year, look I’m no stranger to anger and rage Getting aimed at my head by a lame ‘Cause they name got some fame, but they so insecure That they keep themselves locked away And I get to be the real me all up in their proximity Who the one that got you stressed, lil’ me? Stop throwin’ stones ‘fore you get the boot for the Sicily I make the jazz cats listen to raps I make the hood kids listen to sax I make the white dudes understand which straws they pull out they a*s I got err’body givin’ me dap Craft never speak to just one ol’ faction That picture’s incomplete, that’s a demo-graphic Yes, the whole team’s ’boutta be N-O backwards Won’t stop ’til the whole scene accept no actors The music gon’ eventually bring me power, word to 50 If I’m the chosen one, it’s only ’cause I picked me Let a label manager or agent try to Taylor Swift me I’ll have a custom grave tailored swiftly, you dig me?