Sekou Muhammed - Is It Me lyrics

[Intro: Crystal Renee] Is it me? Is it you boy? x3 Is it really me? Cyhi! Yea! [Verse 1: Cyhi The Prynce] Is it me or do these rappers sound like Al Capone? If everybody serving bricks then who bagging zones? How can you rap about it on a song But get 25 years for rapping about it on the phone? Is it me or is these n***as telling stories 'Ye? (HUH) I done seen more D then where Berry Gordy stay Everyday I see a n***a snitch up on 40 These dudes ain't gangstas, the just they just actors, Sidney Poitier Don't get me wrong my n***a, I endorse the streets But, you won't support your kids but go support the freaks Last night, at the club, you blew like a quarter ki But when the feds come, you can barely pay your lawyer fees? Is it me or do these n***as got the game backwards, huh? It's hard to explain rappers We get money to buy the chain that we slave after But we mentally still a slave to that same master [Hook: Crystal Renee] Oh, is it me? is it me? is it me baby? Is it me? is it me? is it me baby? Oh, is it me? is it you boy? is it really me? [Verse 2: Cyhi The Prynce] Is it really me cause I ain't really feeling these new rap n***as Pardon my soliloquies But honesty is what we really need When a crew full of cap peelers, but that wasn't really me I used to trap n***a with them nicks like I'm Willis Reed Dealing weed opened a lot of doors for me, chivalry Plus you get less time getting caught with this than with a ki In the streets it's hard for you to sleep like on Christmas Eve But silly me for ever thinking you was really G All these rappers selling birds, I swear this sh** is k**ing me They have shackles on your wrist all the way down where your achilles be And ya'll still listen to it, is it me? [Hook] [Verse 3: Tate Dumonde] Most of your favorite rappers never sh** It's clearly evident, the flow that I'm giving them heads heaven-sent Life could be as sour as pickles but you got to relish it And the lyrics that I spit is what I'm living And you embellish it Pay attention, n***a never had a pot to piss in Bragging about riches, they tripping, that's why I rarely listen n***a you ain't never sold at all Or what you copped didn't [?] so you flexed and had them serving salt My future bright and it shining just like a bowling ball Respect the real, so they see me and never notice ya'll Is it me or is these n***as fake? Don't understand it Prynce you matching with they lyrics And I can't relate I got partners doing dimes, it's like a b**h today So what I spit is serious, period, yea like I menstruate I paint pictures just like I'm selling them art And clip n***as up with these lines, now that's a hell of a part It's Tate! Is it me or is these n***as telling stories 'Ye? (HUH)