"[1: A.D. Carson]
Make no mistake, it’s about G’s
Understand, I don’t give a F, it’s about ease
About deez...flows I perfected—moment I Seized—
Guy that I be. And y’all ain’t really fucking with me
It’s A
Opportune moment for me to hone it
Belly full of hunger, ain’t no question do he want it
Every second dude is on it, man, he questions every second dude who’s on, and
He’s coming up with less than few responses
I’m a let you do the nonsense
I’m a lecture you to let you to the conscience
I’m elected. A selected few I bond with
A respected dude who’s honest
I’m eclectic, too. I guess it’s due to Momma’s
Hectic rules and sketching through them comics
And them metric school responses
That left us to our lessons full of garbage
That never taught us Huey P or Garvey
And were February sorry. Made we wonder are we even hardly
Better off than when we started being chartered
I’m aiming for the godly—and not asking permission
Dues already paid, but no matter, it’s intuition I’m listening to and giving to you
When I’m doing this here. I’m sincere
Speak from experience—plenty sins here
[Hook]
That’s Truth on the beat, and I speak his name
Even when I spit in the streets, you hear what I’m saying
But do what you will with it
I’m usually ill with it
And if I’m sick, it won’t even matter, you’ll still get it
Plenty time in, and I’m still with it
Still feel I’m fresh as a mint, and I still live it
Still deciphering ciphers with real lyrics
Still feel I rep where I’m from—and that’s Ill nigga
Redd Foxx: “Work me to death all week, and ain’t paying me no decent salary, and then go to a big party and ask your friends why do they steal. ‘Cause you wasn’t paying me nothing.”
[2: Truth]
Truth on the beat, so the beat’s gritty
Congregation say ‘Amen’ like Meek Milly
Each and every street, city
State, country, who stay hungry
Motto is ‘make money.’
Genetically, the pedigree is take money
Since the Cortés, Columbus ‘nem, they was jumping
In and out of boats, cutting throats, taking slaves
Getting Mondays off for serial killers who paved the way
For the Berkshires and Sam Walton, Warren Buffet
Selling shares—ain’t sharing shit when going public
Say Lebron rich, Hov wealthy, stitching envy
Comparison to the real rich—they pitching pennies
[Uh]
Sipping Henny got me honest
Wanna sip it
Shit’s watered down
Have it straight, and shit, you vomit
So, I pop snares, pluck basses, hitting chronic
Like, “Don’t look at me…somebody gotta tell ‘em.’”
[Hook]
That’s Truth on the beat, and I speak his name
Even when I spit in the streets, you hear what I’m saying
But do what you will with it
I’m usually ill with it
And if I’m sick, it won’t even matter, you’ll still get it
Plenty time in, and I’m still with it
Still feel I’m fresh as a mint, and I still live it
Still deciphering ciphers with real lyrics
Still feel I rep where I’m from—and that’s Ill nigga."