[Intro: Tech N9ne] Free your mind, and remember Winners are not people who never fail But people who never quit All I ever wanted was to sell Records to the people make a lot of mil', yessir Rap to me, it was the holy grail I'm gonna go and do it, I'm gonna never gonna fail Yeah, but first I gotta make it out of hell [Verse 1: Tech N9ne] Wake up and I see crime All of us we on it's eat time My homies love me yelling "Peace N9ne" At the same time, throwing B signs Throwing em back and repping the street, I'm Doing music and writing beast rhymes But my V-Slimes, had no weak minds Got with the music, started a group and we shine Music gave us hella hope Made it up out of the bangin' and sellin' dope We were stronger than a bottle of Yoke Till one of our members found a kid to grope Then your honor gave the peddy the rope Losing a man, the band began to slope Never did think a plan was damned to croak So doing it solo-dole stands the G.O.A.T Started making hella LP's 2000, although with five, felt free Because of the hand the label dealt me But in '06 Fontana help us melt cheese Number one independent gonna be spending our time and funds, in a minute That's what the government want the sums, then I send it In a couple of months I'm done and replenished [Bridge: Tech N9ne] Everywhere I go, I'm selling out the show Around the world I k** em and everybody know Whenever we hit the studio and Tecca Nina drop, hot Even though I will go toe to toe if somebody bang on me But I'm rolling in the dough and I'm really respected and protected Chances of me getting shot, not [Verse 2: Tech N9ne] Everyone loving the Tech Publishin', I get a check Loving the cities that with me, the people that call me the best I don't have any regret, but it's a bit of neglect Missing my babies I love em and none of leaving me yet Feeling good like a villain should In a mansion, but I'm still in hoods Not like Trayvon, J's on Khaki shorts with a red tee like I will and could I can conceal it my permits say If evil happens to swerve this way Hope nobody deserves quick spray I feel an angelic surge this day They feeling my songs Been doing it long They want me to sell 'em my CD right outta my home Cos I'm in the zone I'm putting em on in front of the store when a couple of police won't leave me alone Why they tripping? I fit the description It's two of them rushing me I'm on a solo mission To get people to listen, but they pushing and kicking me I'm on the ground when they telling me, "Cause of a gun suspicion" It was in my pocket, ain't trying pop it When they scared of a brother with a gun no one can stop it Then one of em lost it, and then I was shot quick Officers took me to heaven, I'm dead and with multiple rockets Didn't matter I was good and living inside a mansion next to ball players 'Cause of the move he made was drastic now I lay in a casket carried by my pallbearers Fears what I see, making em k** a G Rotten apple in the batch; don't be tell the rest to flee This happened in Baton, R-O-U-G-E, even I fit the description What if it was me? [Verse 3: Krizz Kaliko] What if it was me What if I never got the one chance to be Everything and everywhere I go, I wouldn't see If by your hand you took that from me But what if it were me? Laying right there I'll never get up again, it's so unfair My babies cry out You never cared Things that we do make each other so scared So what if it was you there? (Should I just) Take your life (Should I bust) Make your wife widowed, withered, hugging the pillow The scent of you still on her Spirit she feels on her The whole world weeps Blood we all spill on her And I know, it's ill when the pill's hard to swallow How should I feel when the man follows? The words you said saved me, he crazy And you saved my life, take my life [Outro: Krizz Kaliko & *Tech N9ne*] I gotta fight, all of the night with cops, crips, bloods with sore fists I gotta fight, all of the night with cops, crips, bloods with sore fists I gotta fight, all of the night with cops, crips, bloods with sore fists *I gotta fight, all of the night with cops, crips, bloods with sore fists and them Nazis*