[Verse 1: Stone]
I could rap to any beat don't tell me when to come in
And I win, man I could do it again
Oh now you wanna be friends?
Cuz you heard I wrote a rhyme, classify it as divine
But this shit ain't rocket science
Like, all I gotta do is be myself
I don't think of anybody else I guess I'm selfish
Conceded in a way, cuz my shit is appraised
And I'm stuck in my ways, and I'm stuck in days
I'm tryna fucking get paid, ain't make no fucking mistakes
My shit is planned out, and my future in concrete
Giving this away like I'm hosting a swap meet
Homie get off me, I need my space
I'm looking for the real I can't find me a trace
Has it been misplaced? or is it extinct
I'm tryna resurrect it homie what do you think?
[Hook: Stone]
I put my ink to the pad, my mind to this shit
I'm flying to this shit, tryna fucking find me a grip
My ink to the pad, my mind to this shit
I'm flying to this shit, tryna fucking me a grip (yea)
[Verse 2: Stone]
I'm living, I'm having visions of my money multiplying gotta make a decision, should I:
Go to school, keep following the rules, get a job, buy a house an a pool? Nah, I'm cool
I'ma keep my nose in a book, I'ma write some dope shit
I'ma sing me some hooks, disciple is my friend yea thats what it took
For the greats, to carry the weight, like a freight
I don't care what you think, man fuck your debate
I know I'm bound to be great, tell me can you relate?
Oh, you think that I'm fake? I know you feel the authenticity
I promise if you leave me now that one day you'll be missing me
My baby's kissing me, she bites me on the lip to make me think that she was fishing me, I just hope that you are listening
Cutting, and breaking, and rolling the weed
Do what I want make this shit is obscene
Turning the heads when I step on the scene
Keepin' it real do you know what I mean?
And I'm back now, you know I brought the flow back now
Crossing motherfuckers like my name was J. Stackhouse
And its a fact now, that these rappers are kinda wack now
Stuntin' to make up for the shit that they lack now
It's so disturbing, I listen to repetative verses
And I'm still serving these tables its time to open the curtains
And make way, for the new brand of new shit
I'm working day and night on this strand of new shit
And who's this, the dude spits and lose lips might sink ships
So you better keep your shit zipped for real
You looking at me mad off of the pill
Record label executives erasing your fucking deal, and that's real
