I'm gettin the ahh, I'm gettin the ahh from the

weak shit that I hear no lyrical styles come near

to the one who boasts like Buck

On the mic truck, cuz I never gave a fuck

I hate the weak shit, man it be fuckin with my soul

I peeped how radio be trying to take control

Tellin me to get a little lighter on my lyrics

But if it ain't real on the mic I can't feel it

Straight from my bloodstream, I pump finesse

Nevertheless, hold it in your chest like stress

Rhythm and blues style is not in my environment

And when I "slowww dowwwn" it's time to take a hit

But until I fall off, call off your set

and if you never knew me, then you never knew wreck

Look inside of the mind and see

Cause you might be trapped with a nigga like me

I feel like I'm trapped in the motherfuckin cave

To the rhythm I'm a slave, lookin in my grave

Jugulur vein bustin out my neck, you see the rage

I move when I groove cuz I'm into, the stage

of the Buckshot, black, I'm bringin it back

to the roots, like Timberland boots, home on my rack

And I don't give a FUCK what you say

Commercial rap, get the gun clap, day after day

Niggaz don't play on the d low, kid you know my steelo

I roll on more niggaz than cee-lo

We might just bumrush your set

Me AND my niggaz on the real mic check

Like my nigga Smif gettin swift on the gift

Then I toss another lesson to my nigga Wessun

And my nigga Five from the tribe of Moon

Pass the Crooked I, bitch yo pass the boom

Whenever you're ready I'ma take you into the stage

Deep in the mind of a slave