Tired

Make you go, soul for soul, over mic control

Kid you can touch me with a ten foot pole

And I even made the devil sell me his jewels

He was out to cold mock me, and play you for fools

Kid, you know the rules, must be smoking super cool

Try to dis me on the low, got to be a psycho

That's alright though, you know you won't see me shaking

I'm out to the blow the spot on who's real and who's faking

Who's giving, who's taking, who's living, who's starving

Dis me on the mic, it's time for headstone carving

And epitaph writing, I strike you like lightning

Dissolve you like powder, so turn it up louder

Go on, pump the wattage, get the cheese, buy a cottage

I like mean streets, I like Spanish freaks

I like Korean bar-b-que, I like old school beats, 'cause...

Chorus:

And I'm sick of all the shit that's dropping

And I'm tired of all the lip that's popping

And all the wack attitudes people copping

I'm only tryin' to get a few heads bobbing

(Repeat)

It go bang bang boogie, I'm sick like a loogie

I'm w(e)iser than Bud, I'm thicker than blood

I'm moldin' in time, moldin' from the divine

How could you be so bold, to think that you'll take mine

I'm Cash like Johnny, it's the highway man

And I'm walkin' this line the best way I can

With my farmer's tan and my bloodshot eyes

I ain't body no one, I ain't dropped no pies

With the mothers from the gutters

I'm 'bout to explode, and blow the spot

For now, but the gun, he'll roll

Like artillery shells, been from heaven to hell

And I'm say a little prayer for every rapper that fell, 'cause...

Chorus