Intro:
Yeah
Know what I'm saying
I’m about to free verse some shit for y'all, you feel me
Peep game
This will be the really shit I ever spoke while also being a realist shit I’ve never wrote
Off the top, you dig
Yeah
Verse:
Look
Hood Socrates, tryna teach the block my philosophies
Wish these rap critics and rap niggas stop doubting me 'cause honestly these sixteens are riddled with similes, metaphors and hyperboles
To put me on the tv screen
And I’m back rapping in Hip-Hop cyphеrs like I’m thuggin’ live on BET
My God why should I pretеnd like I’m obsolete when I’m the Carolina’s finest of diamonds repping the 803
Amazingly, I hop on any beat and then I recite poetry about how my life unfolds
I get a pen and a pad and I write from my soul
I pray to God I never have to sell my soul to go gold
Simply based off my content, I deserve to be on the cover of Complex
Somebody please tell XXL they’re hell for putting whack rappers on the cover
Hip-Hop will never prevail if it’s only about them sells
But I guess they only care about themselves
They watch dope emcees get put on the shelf
And give platforms to brothers and sisters who ain’t really on but clout sells and the label pays for 'em
But I’m the last of a dying breed of lyrical emcees who spit sincerely
I prayed to God that my words never fall on deaf ears but it took me a couple of years to understand that none of these motherfuckers even hearing me
I’m a broke rapper making more cents than dollars
But my rhyme schemes are making more sense than common
Learned a lot about myself all them days in college
I realize the only thing they fear is a brother with knowledge
A lot of rappers are soul less characters
Not using their voices to be social activist
Only rapping about the guns and activist
And flashing money, and they’re using it as a catalyst
Cause deep down half of them died a long time ago
And you can hear it in the music
A lot of spirits are off but that’s what happens when them drugs get involved
It’s like a bitter feeling
Like you 'bout to fuck the baddest bitch you know but then you look down and your dick still soft
I know that last bar is so damn hard
Some of you may be offended by the language involved
But I like my bars how I like my sex with my brawd
That means that bitch belongs to me so I can hit this shit raw
Bars, sentencing
My girl kicked that line to me one day in the studio, I’m surprised that I remembered it
I got one goal every single day
That’s to be sure that I make it back home to Shardenay
So wherever, whenever, however, I got a plan
I gotta make my moves in advance
The older that I get I finally understand that I don’t have to be perfect in order to be a perfect man
I’m a prince in a place I don’t quite comprehend
Similar to Simba in the outskirts of the outlands
Tryna find way back without guidance through this tough sand
But when I lift that rock I can finally have pride again, ugh
Did you catch that, maybe you didn’t
This year y’all gone have to rap, because I’m finna come different
I had to reassess my vision, work on my precision
Had to cut some niggas off, it was hard but I had to make that decision cause
Everybody want your rhythm, they don’t want your blues
They try to emulate your skin but they can’t produce your hue
I’m tryna make a motion picture like the brothers Hughes
Vacay in M.I.A, I was inspired by the views
Cause I’m a country nigga, you know I work hard like a stubborn mule
And I’m using my logic to work these Pro Tools
I gave y’all enough bars on this song to get you through
And this is the final one
I’m 'bout to bid adieu
Peace
