| You can still find Ev on the block
|
| Somewhere between a hard place and a rock
|
| My dresser draw gun under the socks
|
| Nothing fun about shooting one but summer is hot
|
| Hey young world Slick Rick is still the ruler
|
| Go follow these dopes if you broke to the jeweller
|
| (Don't follow these dopes)
|
| I’m an artist getting something out of fucking tubas
|
| Real MacGyver making something out of something useless
|
| I’m done with proving myself to people I never met, a new rule in itself
|
| Remind me not to forget, no reinvented my name
|
| I would have did a long time ago if I wanted fame
|
| Ain’t relying on no claim to fame, just more bangers
|
| No more strangers, only Chuck Strangers
|
| The older I get, the less that I speak
|
| I do my dirt, by my lonely I creep
|
| I’ve been living in a bubble
|
| Don’t make me bust yours
|
| You settle for less, I settle the score
|
| Sure as waves at the shore and two and two is four
|
| I’ve been eating all my life and still hunger for more
|
| I’m from the coast (Yes, I’m gifted)
|
| Yeah, here’s a toast
|
| Toward a step of what I want to become
|
| Shed so much skin the old Michael is done
|
| And everything I stood for is waging it’s war
|
| I miss the road when I’m at home and miss home on tour
|
| Lying to myself to say that I ain’t changed
|
| I ain’t trying to play stupid saying I ain’t aged
|
| I earned the right to be hated in the worst way
|
| Happy belated, go shawty it’s your birthday
|
| I’m from a city called this is not your birth place
|
| Motherfuckers just landing round in first base
|
| I should have said it in the first place
|
| Pack my bags I brought the worst case
|
| Before the traffic, good city mad kid
|
| Half like Mike plus half Like from Pac Div
|
| I’ve been living in a bubble
|
| Don’t make me bust yours
|
| You settle for less, I settle the score
|
| Sure as waves at the shore and two and two is four
|
| I’ve been eating all my life and still hunger for more
|
| I’ve got a slow flow because he is vicious
|
| A rolling stone ain’t home like Keith Richards
|
| I’m out my lane, swerving on the shoulder
|
| An alcoholic flow bumping 21 & Over
|
| I know what to write way before I say it
|
| Sometimes it ain’t so bright but I still lay it down
|
| It gets busy known in this town and still put on for a city when nobody’s around
|
| Venice Beach til I die, tell a friend bitch (Bitch)
|
| I’ve been sharp between the years and my friends rich
|
| I stay connected in places, respected by faces
|
| I make hits and steal consecutive bases
|
| There’s no such thing as bad publicity
|
| Who’s fucking with my clique, click clack literally
|
| I make a beat, grab a mic and spit acidity
|
| Venice Beach until I split to Venice, Italy
|
| I’ve been living in a bubble
|
| Don’t make me bust yours
|
| You settle for less, I settle the score
|
| Sure as waves at the shore and two and two is four
|
| I’ve been eating all my life and still hunger for more |