




Prod by Krate Kings and mixed by Fury HD
My little man can say ‘Daddy’ now, so my drive different
Seatbelt on blinkers and Hazards I even drive different
Wheeling with my left, spin the block peaceful
Right hand reaching back, towards the hand of my sequel
He, watching the world holding my thumb
Early morn my new eyes in his face notice the sun
A double entendre fathers will probably catch
Never felt this powerful not even holding a gun
I’m done holding my tongue
Unloading the drum
Line up a nickel cannon and fire at fickle fandom
Random how the rhymes coming now
Barely got time for em now
Caught a case of complacency yet I’m summonsed now?
I took a rest so I guess this appearance warranted
Court again frequently fans wondered if I’d record again
How Dox done with the game?
He put too many quarters in
That boy a bar-cade
Harlem, half the time he brought water in
Fetching orders, Jack em for Jersey she was my Jill
Back and forth, George Washington bridge
Up Sugar Hill
What a thrill
Money on my mind, Weezy on repeat
Dreams of owning a Carter too
Like Nino did with G
Jeezy cd on the way back, running through a recession
Trunk stuffed with a stimulus, to hustle wasn’t in question
Shoulda been behind bars, On I-95
Instead, I’m locked in with bars on I-95
Giving you game as classic, as ‘95 Live
Mind’s eye wide
Fly enough to high five God
Look, A.B. knew in his soul
I’m Top Dawg
Since he seen me like a stray on Sway when I locked jaws,
Every track back when his platform, was not thought
But got sparked by my ten-year-old rap, My Lord
We’d pop off for the Pita
The reason the preaching pointless
Either we was slinging rock, or ya J? Bloody as Stoja’s
Hoop dreams, Turned King of the corner
Cut from the team
Sac Re, Mentos fresh, no cut on the thing
Rusty scissors snipped the tape
Only duct we ever did
Thinking back like was we ever really kids?
Schoolboy turned, new employee of the pif
Qp’s to the zips
When New York music was just G-Unit or Dips
The K’ had a dot on it,
No Grammy nod just a stock on it
Stayed scheming, Pre Ross with Drake and Mont on it
Before Nas was doing it
Consciousness oozing that killer shit
Brainwashed by the Same guys we loved as lyricists
Militant minded tenement talk in project lobbies
Had me embarrassed by eighteen that I ain’t catch a body
The 90’s was mob tied, mafia monikers my jacket cleaner
But my boys had more banana clips than Sarafina
Now it’s Italian neckties, back then Colombian
My bundle thin? OG would front me then
No cap, national anthem all facts, these Snapple tops
Watched the seed that grew into the juice
That we had in the Big Apple rot
Krate K-i-n-g now record pool royalty
World class wrecking crew joining me
Mantle Music mogul, logo everywhere
Silk print embroidery, Varsity jacket
That’s how much harder we had it
Wi-Fi stopped, lost all my connections
Fired from five straight jobs, corporate America and music doors closed
Newark turned to North Pole
Ain’t know where to turn, it was nowhere to turn
Lord knows
We went noodles mixing dimes
Trying to eat with forks in the road
poor souls
These untold tales is foretold
Block soldiers is murdered gory
Or in them orange jumpers serving forty
Furthermore, we know gangster paradise purgatory
But we curse the shorties
Every verse we bursting forties
Observe the story
Robbing they lives, girls is whorey
We put our whole lives on the set acting hard
Screaming gang shit but when the strap hit em
They ask for God
Like Lord Jesus please Allah where you are?
This the war, where everybody want to be a star
Meanwhile I sense wiccans who write backwards
All my names in a pentagram with pints of plasma
On white lacquer, turnpike traffickers
Trappers like Richard Wright chapters
The type rapper you don’t hit the mic after
The Cycle