[Intro] It's not pop, listen to me This is not pop, listen to me It's not pop, listen to me [Verse One] I was taught never let them see you sweat I ain't cried in years Ice water in my veins - so much for blood sweat and tears From up in the upper tier Who'd succumb to peer pressure Appears to separate the puppets from the puppeteers Pay me a couple dues. [?] I ain't never take no number 2 Pen me a couple tunes A few numbers for comfortin' a troubled youth The sisters and brothers who never budge from in front of tubes I couldn't counter this Close encounters with cowards and counterfeits That exist in the biz, you movin' Rihanna and Sierra Mist Where're moments where motives are as clear as a Sierra Mist? And every line that I wrote From the top of the album to the bottom of liner notes Every word of Ebonics, "word is bond" is a solemn oath It's stronger than solid dope, come on let's go [Chorus] I get it popping but it's not pop listen to me I get it popping but it's not pop listen to me I get it popping but it's not pop listen to me I get it, listen to me I get it, listen to me. (It's just that simple...) I get it popping but it's not pop listen to me I get it popping but it's not pop listen to me I get it popping but it's not pop listen to me I get it, listen to me [Verse Two] I don't refer to hip hop as the game - ain't no playin' taking place Cats coming the same, none're spayed, none're chaste Who's calling the plays? [?] play, [?] replaced Who's counting your change? When will change end the chase? Rats packed in a maze, some'll laze, some'll race Fat stacks of the haze, some're sprayed, some're laced Few capital gains, lowercase, lowercase Seems like there's no escape... So we turn saved to handle the pain - "One day in heaven." Then throw hands when they play, "One-eight-seven..." Among tricks of the trade, a well paid reverence Just don't break, all it takes is one brave peasant Stop saving up bread and go save brethren Stop chasing the papes and just stay present Stop making complaints and go make legend And I am an... [?] [Chorus] It's not pop This is not pop This is not pop [Verse Three] Let me slow it down, I'm just starting up They tell me dumb it down, I tell them smarten up I gave the cartons up I gave the sparking up We the Spartans son, pardon us Me and my partners, they try to target us Claim they can't market us. Market what? We already on the clubs, chorus on the cut We already on the cusp, that's because At the core, at the crux We cut from a cloth, never wore, never once And sip from a cup That runneth over, such my homies got homes over Roman rust So what's the rub? The constant hustle and bustle in run and rush Their roles are running Russell, in other words, runnin' Rush Brothers than run amok Ask who are we to judge, but we gon' readjust Son, what? [Chorus] It goes...