[sample]
Boy, we've got to face it, let's talk it out today
We've got to get that feeling back, lift all these sins away
[Intro: IMF Blue Steele]
The f*ck out here, I praise my own to God, he gon' let me eat
[IMF Blue Steele]
Through my, days and nights, I pray and write
For that, one of those prayers might save my life
Or, change my life, I came to write
I could see my name in lights, big chains with ice
I'm thinking futuristic for when I come out
Don't blink cuz you might miss it, son, when I come out
Cuz I'ma f*ck sh*t up so drastic that the public masses
Gon' be like (What the f*ck was that sh*t?)
And this n*gga crazy with it cuz he done babysitted
A pen and paper, that'd give him the vapors
Matter of fact, son, that'd give him them papers
Contract signatures, Cognac, sip it up
Negociating in a all black tinted truck
Yeah, I slow grind it, but son I picked it up
And they made mine, no more WIC for us
Look what the most high God done did for us
Front lawn, back yard, a crib for us
A nice big garage and a car that's just for us
So I gotta thank my God for this, cuz uh...
I could be locked down behind bars or stiff as f*ck
And you know I keep my hammer on my waist
Slugs fly around a n*gga, I need a camera in my face
Units being sold, beautiful as gold
And try to a get a plaque quick, a liar for this rap sh*t
[Chorus: IMF Blue Steele]
Thanks to to the good Lord, I made it through the hood wars
Now I'm trying to book tours, n*gga (cuz I seen did it all)
After this rap sh*t, I'm not going back with this
Sleeping on a p*ssy-ass mattress (cuz I done did it all)
Thanks to this mic check, a n*gga get the right cheques
No longer gotta worry what the price is (cuz I'ma get it all)
Now, I shall slide through life
And paint pictures for ya eye through mics (and y'all I could hear it all)
[IMF Blue Steele]
I survived lots of fights on lots of nights
Now my wrist all chipped with rocks, aight?
Ya like? And this is just a pitstop
Y'all trying to get props, not me, I'ma get rich, watch
Spend another hundred thou' on a wrist watch
n*ggas like, "Son is running wild in that 6 drop"
Yeah, but I'm still awesome with the tongue
Keep the larcen on me, son
With that grip shirt, I'm looking like a Martian with a gun
Parking in the slums, hopping out, n*ggas blunts roll, offer Remy some
Son, will ya get that? Matter of fact, what is that?
That n*gga said, "A little blueberry mixed with Kit Kat"
Y'all n*ggas just rap, I'm trying to Sinatra on them songs
Y'all n*ggas rocking on them wrong
Matter of fact, I'm Sammy Davis on the beats
So all that gat rap ya talk, make her save it for the streets
Cuz...
[Chorus]
[IMF Blue Steele]
When I mic check, I make n*ggas write cheques
I'm trying to live life, yes, b*tch with nice breasts
Little nice sectionary project groupies
Give me a budget to direct movies
Just a can't lose these, tie up to the street
If I die, I'ma still be alive on these beats
God forbid, so I jar with the niz
These n*ggas is gon' not take this father from his kids
It's hard when you live in the slums with ya babies
That's why y'all n*ggas be trying to run from ya babies
I ain't going nowhere, I'ma show my seeds
How you could go from nothing to 4 to 5 E's
I'm looking for 6 daughters and 4 David's
Business lawyers on my caller I.D.'s
Coffee in the morning, sugar in the bowl
I'm flossy when I'm yawning, there's bullets in my boats
[Chorus]
[Outro: IMF Blue Steele]
sh*t, n*gga, sh*t, n*gga, sh*t n*gga, come on...