Yo, I'm a fucking hustla
But I ain't slanging coke
I'm slanging banging tracks
To kids, their calling it dope
Truth is this biz
Ain't got enough so
To clean my fucking mouth
After spitting what I wrote
Another mothafucka
Undiscovered by a label
Over motivated, medicated, unstable
While other mothafuckas
Getting videos on cable
Paying for their dues
Putting G's up on the table
Sick to my stomach
Full-time Nine to Five
Still I've only ever had
Enough to survive, I
Break my fucking back
Just to lace another track
I used to smoke crack
Till I learned to fucking rap
Ain't got enough money
To take a fucking crap
Yo this shit ain't funny
Yo my brains about to snap
If it don't happen soon
Then I don't get ahead
And I stop making tunes
Just consider me dead!
(Verse 2: Young Sin)
Can you get closer to clearer
Than smoke in the mirror
Broken to feel this
We pushing' more dope
Than the dealers
Cuz I stay up on my rap shit
It's for my niggas
That don't have shit
Come up with skills and that's it
Ain't got no classy video
I put it down for my city though
Broke, and still pulling pretty ho's
Never paying for no feature
The creature over these beats
From the streets
Who'd just rather fucking eatcha
The rap game full of half lame homos
The souped up budgets and fast lane promos
Ya airbrushed photos, ya hype, ya produca's
The truth is you still couldn't
Tell me where the booth is
I be the real McCoy
If I didn't have a job
I'd still feel employed
This Hip Hop's my right
And if you wanna be
Taking it from me
Ya better be taking my life
Sucka!
