Look

Relate to ya
I can't if you's a fake nigga
Where level 4 in the state is what your mistakes get ya
Rap niggas they just wanna double date with you
Twitpic and show these hoes that they affiliate with you
Labels used to treatin rappers like a slave, nigga
Starvin artist "just be happy with your fame nigga"
Shit changed, now it's such a different game
All the niggas like myself is controlling everything
If you, pay attention see exactly what I mean
Fucc the middleman, I said that in 2003
Was 18, White Lincoln, chrome feet
Black .40 was my pillow, everynight I go to sleep
Grown niggas treat me like they OG
Holdin on to every word that the tiny loc speaks
I had a vision nobody else could see
Sold my shit to D-Mac, a little less than 10 Gs
Brought my grocery bag of cash back to Blacc Sam
He matched a nigga, next day we went to Sam Ash
We bought a pro tools and a microphone
Studio was far from plush but the lights was on
Couple hunned thousand stashed at my momma's home
Real estate in Atlanta but ain't nobody know
Mac 11s in the safe, hidden in the floor
My bro did it like nobody that I've ever known
Screens on every wall with 16 camera angles
Double pane bullet proof glass pushin past the haters
Cuban links and rolexes 'fo the check from Epic
This industry ain't got like us but they gone respect it
Built the label up from money we was savin up
No details til the Statue of Limitations up
Couple niggas got flipped tryna play with us
The demonstrations speak loud so I ain't sayin much
Was a charismatic nigga, I don't play as much
Cos life is real when you live it in a place like us
School pictures crackin smiles, now my face is stuck
Shellshocked to see how much they really hated us
Couldn't keep a kind heart, get yo hatred up
Streets smarts, nigga get yo information up
Watching Belly, smokin blunts, take Jamaican puffs
One day I'mma have a house and car like Jamaican cuz
Credits roll, back to stress pounds breakin up
Had to fight before we hustled and it made us tough
Early 90s neighbors rooster used to wake us up
Mama had a bucket and a shack but we ain't make a fuss
Blue Cutlass, no license, .380 tucked
96 Caprice 'Bolt Da Fatts' was savin up
They gettin packed out if niggas try fade with us
Crenshaw and Slauson, True Story, Zo play the drums

I got to this paper, no industry favors
Speaking to they soul, so they tell me I'm they favorite
Been through it myself, yeah, I know how it make you
Never let 'em judge you cuz they ain't you
I could tell a long story or just say I'm grateful
I could tell a gang of reasons or just say I'm faithful
I can sell a million records or just mixtape it
They don't really give a fuck long as I just keep pacing
Quiet for a year, gave no explanation
Now I'm 'bout to drop I got em on that Proud 2 Pay shit
Half of a million cash, he gon offer me a label
Told him that I need to own it, so I'm cool, kept it gangster
Hollaback, real niggas what you calling that
You see the game fucked up, look, what part is that
They compare where I'm at to where I started at
They put me in the Getty, I'm a artifact

They can't never hang me on the wall though
We presidents nigga we push buttons
The rest of y'all just react, Victory Lap nigga this Marathon
Still don't stop though

Count me up, count me up
I'm in this shit you niggas is out as fuck
I'm use to people doubting I'd amount to much
I thrive off the challenge, I'm a childish fuck
I love toys so I'm by the buck
I hate to lose so I play too rough
I speak my mind and say I say too much
Minus the hip hop, cops say I don't say enough
I know they listening to my raps
While I'm out running these laps
Tryna make my paper stack
Its like this and like that
I think I'm KRS
I think I'm Dead Prez
I think I'm 2Pac nigga I need some fuckin meds
I think I'm Eminem, I'm going crazy
Shoot in front of the shop Nas