b**h, I'm gold cappin'
Came up from rappin'
Everything I do - I do with pa**ion
I know you're sick and tired
Because I'm tired of it
I want these publicists to write down my rubbish
And give me a personal aid so I can transport my luggage
Momma used to complain about the music
It's too loud and I'm making ruckus
I never thought I'd make something of it
I know you're stressed
I'm stressed too because my life the roughest
Yeah
Give me a house in Los Angeles, or better yet a castle
I'm a sky-view an*lyst
I'm mad because it's a mad world
I live the valley life - pretty woman and sad girls
I'm not a socialite
Staying up at night to get my vocals right
My focal knife will slice open
Any career that you're hoping to make it
Like Michael Jackson I'm gentle but yet I'm open
Mental carries the wary soul
I'm the definite chosen
Dozing off when I'm smokin'
I'm tokin' the finest potent
I've broken a world record the way I leave faces frozen
I should be an area code the way I'm zonin'
I should be on TV
Got the forehead like Conan
And if it's war, we'll go to war like the Romans
But I don't want no war
I'm kinda sore, my heart's broken
Yeah
One day we'll be lost at the ocean and people pirating my work will get to face the opus
The people violating me will get the notion
I'm not "Real Estate," I'm like a real stockbroker
I got security on me at every show
Way I've been feeling I should copyright every flow
So if you got some tendencies, then better let 'em go
I know it really hurts the stagnant to see me grow
Behold!
I'm not writing down what really happened
Rappers
They hate The Heat like Orlando Magic
(That's ill!)