If I was a regular cat

Kickin  the illest of raps

Would  you rock with a spitter like me

And what if I wasn’t no thug

Talkin bout bussin slugs but more like Mos and Kweli

What  if it wasn’t Sean John and the Air Force Ones?

But  Timbos and LRG

Would you be true?

To  a real emcee

I remember

94 winter cold as ever

Coogie under my Hobo leather

Illmatic  was the shit and Ready to Die

I got my first piece of ass high

On Southernplaylistccaddilacefunkymusic

36 Chambers Jurassic

Hip Hop Classics

Army jackets and timbos was magnets for chickens

When keepin it real came before all the riches

This was Craig Mack, Busta, Redman, and Keith

Black Moon had Enta da Stage on the Streets

What’s beef? East Coast and West Coast shit

By 95 Source Awards niggas got rich

Suge dissed Puff Pac got hit

Next thing you know Who Shot Ya was my shit

I loved these niggas they was role models

When Hip Hop was into poppin Heineken bottles

If I was a regular cat

Kickin the illest of raps

Would you rock with a spitter like me

And what if I wasn’t no thug

Talkin bout bussin slugs but more like Mos and Kweli

What if it wasn’t Sean John and the Air Force Ones?

But Timbos and LRG

Would you be true?

To a real emcee

Lyrically I mix Q-Tip, CL, Phife, and Tragedy

With beats from Diamond D to compliment me

A lot of cats forgot about Show Biz and AG

Kids don’t know the flow that Nas and AZ

Repped with Hip Hop is on the exit

Then came the necklace, the Lexus, and material checklist

MTV cribs and the glamour and glitz

Make niggas hungry and then the hammers will spit

Imagine if the Real World was about 7 thugs

And cameras followed them cats around sellin drugs

Tired of kids keeping these crack and gat raps

But don’t know the origin of gold fronts and knapsacks

I was 6 when the epidemic took the streets

One was crack rocks the other was Marley Marl’s beats

Filas, velours, Kangols, cable chains, door knockers

And bangles for the brods

When we were Gods

(Tiff The Gift)

Cause I define Hip Hop and not Moulin

Can I still take the title as the female don?

Cause I don’t rock stilettoes but spit rhymes accapella

Could you break down and learn my songs

And cause I feel Lauryn and Tifa vs. of selling out my people

Could you respect my hot 16?

And because I’m not strippin could you take the time to listen

Or would you reject a hot emcee

I define Hip Hop in every aspect

My lyrics leave marks like Garvey and Aztecs

Without cashed checks

I’m still the hottest you’ll meet

The hottest is me

I’m what you favorite artist

Tries his hardest to be

The hardest emcees get no airtime

I can even take it to the dirty south

And say that naah rhyme

And your notebook define one element

Me I’m all five

You can see I’m all live

I only adlib my rhymes

Half the times albums be hype men and cheerleaders

6 interludes with 4 songs the real leaders

Such as my self with no intro

I been dope since Adam and Eve conceived they kin folks

Maybe if I was flashy they would pass me a deal

But I rather be the dopest and brokest

I keep it real………