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still cutting up records, still offing sh-t
used to be friends with the n-ggas
that’s friends with that n-ggas that be talking sh-t
got caught up by the officers, still ain’t saying sh-t
know some n-ggas ratting but that ain’t part of my regimen
all i know is how to record and eat up these beats
these ain’t sideline stories, these is floor seats
you say you’re a goat, that means you be sh-tting where you eat
i am not a rapper
all my vocals clean like they’re dapper
po-po come, your boy turning into casper
they wanna see me gone but thеy moving too slow
like simba’s dad boy you know i move faster
finna go back to thе days i had the fade
cut my dreads off just to show i got some lyrics in me
and the sh-t i did man you know it’s homemade
gave ‘em free art, that is just the purist in me
i might blow the budget on a semi-automatic
then imma spray up the presidential palace
tell ‘em let my people go from the shackles and the madness
the system got my brothers letting go of all their dreams
getting 9-5s just so they can count beans
some of them don’t even know what 9-5 means
money in the bank don’t account to all the deeds
speaking from a place of experience
we can’t even exercise our own freedom of speech
your family members criticise you when you speak it to existence
we’re all enslaved to the governamental vision
n-gga i’m just rapping what i’m living
but kids love it when a n-gga trapping and he f-cking up his liver
still taking care but the soul is what i’m giving
dollarsorryens might never be forgiven

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