| Heavy metal could wet you, yo, bless me |
| Jail niggas go to hell quicker, lick you with the hundred shot |
| Heavy metal could wet you, yo, bless me |
| Jail niggas go to hell quicker, lick you with the hundred shot |
| Rhymes, cash, weed, cars |
| Walk down Mermaid Ave we like stars |
| A nickel bag is sold in the park I’m involved |
| I’m the king of New York when it comes to these bars |
| I said rhymes, cash, the weed, cars |
| Coney Island mayor, hood superstar |
| You sell an eighth in the barbershop? We want ours |
| When it comes to these bars, y’all can’t fuck with the god |
| The first rhymes I wrote was meant to embarrass a classmate |
| Fire in my eyes, I walked into school mad late |
| Studied Duke the whole year, waited 'til the last day |
| Then whooped his ass worse than if his moms saw his bad grades |
| Uh, now I’m movin' at a fast pace |
| And every time I rhyme everyone got the gas face |
| Winning competitions every place I be |
| Only sixteen, gettin' in with the fake ID |
| Coney Island kids with something to prove, nothing to lose |
| Walk into the spot twenty deep, niggas tucking they jewels |
| 'Cause they knowing we hold heat |
| Co-signed by the OGs |
| Computer nerds and parolees |
| They all know me |
| They all know I earned all the respect that I ever got |
| I spent one whole summer |
| Walkin' up and down the ave dolo battling the nicest niggas on every block |
| And never got got |
| That’s how I got the top spot |
| That’s why they call me the mayor in my hood, I got props |
| In your hood you got shot |
| I son rappers, call me pop-pop |
| Copping drop tops from work out the crock pot |
| Fiends cooking up living the dream |
| Look at us |
| Four of us with one thirty eight that wouldn’t bust |
| Still robbed niggas off of the B36 bus |
| Shit was starting to rust but we still ain’t give a fuck |
| It didn’t shoot but we could pistol whip you 'til you give it up |
| Out of the four of us only two still living |
| The other one besides myself is doing life in prison |
| That’s why I go so hard on these beats and rhythm |
| 'Cause I got four souls trapped inside of my system |
| Listen, at some point in your life you gotta man up |
| The Easter Bunny not coming, there ain’t no Santa |
| Caught my first felony strong arm no hammer |
| Came out the slammer |
| With all my goals written inside a planner |
| And now we makin' it happen |
| Fuck rappin' |
| Real life shit, we adaptin' |
| Nigga I’ll shoot you and the fuckin' captain |
| Hold that |
| Bang, bang, biddat, nigga |
| Bang, bang, biddat, nigga |
| Bang, bang, bang, bang |
| Bang, biddat, nigga |
| Uh, uh, hold that, nigga |
| Yo, yo |
| Everyday they ask why I’m not on |
| It works the dome |
| 'Cause the truth is it’s nobody fault but my own |
| At seventeen, me and George Burnz was signing to spit |
| Until the planes hit the towers then he started to flip |
| Spit Records was under Def Jam, was up there regularly |
| Burnz left and they ain’t wanna sign us separately |
| Went to Fight Klub, bodied everything, no problem |
| TV, magazines, was on my way to stardom |
| Joey IE called the crib, spoke to my mom |
| Said I’ma make your son a rich man, I thought it was on |
| But then he heard I was on the run and had to do time |
| Plus I was wylin' out on drugs, he fell back and declined |
| I was truly outta my mind |
| Then I did a bid |
| Came home, started running up at Shady with Riggs |
| Riggs told me if I could sign you today I would |
| But I was back on my bullshit, up to no good |
| Necro hit me up on MySpace, took me on tour |
| Saw these independent dudes was getting money galore |
| I got my foot in the door, no hesitation |
| Been clean nine years, rebuilding my reputation |
| Living my dreams on a glorious road |
| Best seller when my story is told |
| That’s a fact, nigga |
| Living my dreams on a glorious road |
| This a best seller when my story is told |
| That’s a Fendi |
| What, what, what |
| Ain’t no more to it |
| I’m done |
| Bro, this is like the third time I’m calling you, dude |
| Come on, bro |
| I’m gonna come through like a fuckin' Gorilla Monsoon, bro, if you don’t, |
| if you don’t pick up your fuckin' phone, bro |
| Come on, dude |
| What the fuck? |
| Fuck my life |
| Fuckin' shit, bro, my guts hurt |