[Verse 1] First off, rap's f**in' back, remember that A mad Black reactin' on a track, remember that? Since hip went safe, I had to hop on the case And crack the proper combination to see where we ended at And repossess the fumble, plus harvest any yardage Maybe gained before this Game of Microphone Thrones started Retarded - Y'all brawlin' for a crown that don't exist We supposed to shed light on what the others might of missed And put a twist on the sh** as if written by Charles Dickens They'll gulp reality if you can pulp it into fiction Admit it, I spit it the way nobody every did it Just rippin' it into bits only to pick up and restitch it Sincere vision - Step into a clearer mirror image Here, listen - Here's the definition of what isn't Imprisoned by a system of present popular livin' All you're gettin' is everything I was given In rhythm as it was written [Hook: Andie Kritikos] I got some deep dark secrets I keep hidden away And when the world breaks in and tries to change me I stay secret the same [Verse 2] Everywhere I go, they say "Yo, that's the Dopeman!" He the one to f** with if you're lookin' for some substance No alarm, I mean no harm, all I farm is jargon If you test it then I betcha I can get you in my clutches Now anytime you need a prime rhyme, who do you hit up? The flashy mother f** in the dead giveaway getup? Or the mack Dracula whose vernacular never s**s? Wack rappers get stuffed in the back of Acura trucks Slapped, cuffed, and snuffed - Hacked up and dumped Down the boulevard of broken dreams Never to be seen amongst the envy of the green It's even more obscene If you can see who's pullin' every little string behind the scenes Means I gotta kick somethin' that means somethin' Your fussin' don't mean nothin' I function off of verbal esteem young'n, you buggin' It's like y'all got lost in spirit I don't understand language of people with soft lyrics I don't hear it [Hook: Andie Kritikos] Broken gla** is falling Over my pretty face I look God in the eye, wink and smile It's the same sh** every day [Verse 3] So I talk a lot - I ain't got a whip, yeah I walk a lot Smoke good, that's understood, regardless if I cough or not I like my speakers peakin' Though my neighbors love to call the cops Fiends litter the Green Line, they always exit off my stop Right down the road is where they often go to hustle rock Where it ain't peculiar when the thugs aim and buck a shot Word? That's a third world curved around a suburb f**ed! If I was asked to describe it in one word People got what they got and they get what they get The middle cla** ignore the poor so they can scorn all the rich And if either would switch places, they'd plead for the same basics Is it me or just humanity who's off on the script? Not I - I'm like Popeye - Spinach makes me grimace So you chitlins best gettin' raisin' the stakes unless you chicken Lyrics as finger lickin' as diggin' ribs at a picnic In the park with the Mexicans - Generation Let Me In You 'bout to let me out this cage though, when I say so Philosophies can shape shift like Plato made of Play-Doh From cradle to the grave bro, sporting a broken halo Come and f** with my art and depart with a swollen A-hole Moment I'm on the payroll's the day I'm getting fired Cause money's what a bank holds I'm pocketing a riot with my rhymin' And my genre's in the rough, so I'm a diamond Though I'm shinin' I still find myself survivin' on this Ramen Not a problem [Hook: Andie Kritikos] The police keep knockin' Some 'bout a noise complaint I say officer please, haven't done not a thing Understand, I just have to sing I got some deep dark secrets I keep hidden away And when the world breaks in and tries to change me I stay secret the same