| Uh, give me a second, I’m having a nigga moment
|
| Jo' reaching under the shirt’s your first omen
|
| We man up, y’all niggas is still zoning
|
| I’m on my third hustle while niggas is still yawning
|
| Five in the morning, out of town cell phone
|
| Roaming on my Philly shit, beard need coaming
|
| Work’s never done, fake niggas need bitching
|
| Set off a pistol whipping, trigger finger still itching
|
| Pots in the kitchen, 'caine needs cooking
|
| As long niggas balling, Jo' Gutta still jooking
|
| I see the crowd looking, I thought he was a rapper?
|
| That’s part-time bitch, I’m an AK clapper
|
| Dress code’s something like the opposite of dapper
|
| Send a black rose to your mother and your pastor
|
| I’m after, everything I feel that I’m due
|
| On the grind 'til I feel that I’m through
|
| Even though I moved out of NYC I’m the realest
|
| Transferred to Central Carolina Phyllis
|
| The world black and white but a nigga dream of color
|
| Like blue and cream wallies, I’mma rock 'em this summer
|
| Took a few losses, had a little setback
|
| Reparation time, dude for the get-back
|
| Had a premonition, I’d be the illest spitting
|
| Shut down Webster’s, become the definition
|
| Used to have more +Nightmares+ than +Dana Dane+
|
| A voice woke me up and told me to change the game
|
| Never second guessed it, rose to my feet
|
| Metronome flow, huh, controlling the beat
|
| The heart of the street, put my vocal chords in a frame
|
| Hang it up because it’s art when I speak
|
| Don’t need to autograph it, my verse is the signature
|
| Now open up the gallery doors
|
| I never should have rolled the dice
|
| Now I’m trapped off in the game (in the game)
|
| No matter how you live your life
|
| Some shit don’t never change (never change)
|
| I’m here for the money and the power
|
| Y’all keep that fuckin fame (fuck the fame)
|
| Either way when I leave this bitch
|
| You gon' know my fuckin name
|
| Yeah, so come with it, Joey done shitted
|
| Best to do it and damn near best that did it
|
| Nine-one-nine on the wrist and the fitted
|
| Raleigh y’know our cap', lil homie don’t forget it
|
| Put the bait out and you bit it
|
| Fuck around with me, catch a bald like Riddick
|
| Or bald like Jackson, time for some action
|
| If you asking, I ain’t with all the rassling
|
| I’m about moving, I ain’t with the losing
|
| As a fly-by I’m still cool cause I’m cruising
|
| What you think you doing? |
| I might have to ruin
|
| Better catch up homie, come get with the movement
|
| (Better tell 'em bout it) H-O-J, they don’t play
|
| That’s my team, this my day
|
| Crown City boy, that’s where I stay
|
| And we the best out, that’s what they say
|
| Uh, niggas always wanna talk about money
|
| Told y’all I came with Dho/dough, young’n you ain’t know?
|
| Toured the world with my group Lil' Bro'
|
| That means I’m professional, who’s next to blow?
|
| You just standing in a shadow
|
| Hurt pride like I stole your mojo
|
| I’m so thoro, get a book, maybe I’ll explain
|
| How I maintain, do this with no strain
|
| Huh, you do it with no gain
|
| And they tryna put us on the same plain
|
| No disrespect, that’s a disconnect
|
| I achieve milestones you ain’t even seen yet
|
| Been a couple places you ain’t even dreamed yet
|
| Six years later, how quick we forget
|
| And yet, there’s still not one comparison
|
| That they compared me to that I ain’t much better than, my nigga
|
| Yeah, haha
|
| HOJ, that’s the muh’fuckin movement
|
| Yeah, uh, that’s the muh’fuckin unit
|
| J.O., Doovie, Jozee', Rapper
|
| Sean Boog, what up? |
| Khrysis, what up?
|
| D-Brock, Big Dho |