You know the stats. If not, then ask some niggas who
Heard of me, the half on the Artifacts in Jersey
‘Cause brothers be buggin’, not givin’ love to the nuccas, sayin’
Fuck us ‘cause we be shinin’ brighter than them suckers
Shootin’ me prison, nobody listens to your dissin’
‘Cause, yo, my shit’s legit, and as a lyricist, I’m hittin’
The high notes, so why don’t I smile when I take pictures?
‘Cause now that I rock, I got more niggas on my jock than bitches
I just wanna do my jams with fams and slam into some hypeness
But biters and backstabbin’ rappers don’t even like us
But props due. Peep The Source, Rap Pages and the Billboard
And read about the tours while you be flappin’ your jaws
I freak techniques ‘cause talk is cheaper than beepers from Broad Street
Punks pop junk, Tame and Da Sensei leave ‘em all beat
So peep how deep my technique freaks and how my shit sounds
C’mon wit da c’mon, git down wit da git down