Picture me talking imagery while writing a piece
having bethoveen and Mozart fightin to worship my feet
I got the style, the music and know how to use it
And dont aim for a few hits, my verses aint useless
Everyone of them count, its like the bakers dozen
If u short one, then u dont got it, ur the fakers bustin
Out on a track cussing, sayin u hood but u wasnt
U aint no family to the hood, nor are u a distant consin
u basically nothing, gotta rap to act tough
and the facts bust back in ur face, now u got gat love
But this thing aint playin, u givin CPR to the gun
But I aint savin a mans life, im tryin to end one
Im sendin, some people faster than they should
Going out like some little girls, I thougt u were hood
Sayin u roll with crooks, and dont got a leader
Yea u might be powerful, but im the Rap Cesar
IM the plat. getter, so u fakas can cry me a river
Caz u leaving as fast as a star who's careers who withers
Ur up in the spot light, put back in the lime light
WHen from hero to criminal back at the crime sight
Waitin for the hit with the stick
Straightin up before gettin slit by the biggest
Rapper who walked dirt, leavin ur situation akward
Now ur off key on ur words, it seems ur mind is off Earth
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