[sample]

Boy, we've got to face it, let's talk it out today

We've got to get that feeling back, lift all these sins away

[Intro: IMF Blue Steele]

The fuck out here, I praise my own to God, he gon' let me eat

[IMF Blue Steele]

Through my, days and nights, I pray and write

For that, one of those prayers might save my life

Or, change my life, I came to write

I could see my name in lights, big chains with ice

I'm thinking futuristic for when I come out

Don't blink cuz you might miss it, son, when I come out

Cuz I'ma fuck shit up so drastic that the public masses

Gon' be like (What the fuck was that shit?)

And this nigga crazy with it cuz he done babysitted

A pen and paper, that'd give him the vapors

Matter of fact, son, that'd give him them papers

Contract signatures, Cognac, sip it up

Negociating in a all black tinted truck

Yeah, I slow grind it, but son I picked it up

And they made mine, no more WIC for us

Look what the most high God done did for us

Front lawn, back yard, a crib for us

A nice big garage and a car that's just for us

So I gotta thank my God for this, cuz uh...

I could be locked down behind bars or stiff as fuck

And you know I keep my hammer on my waist

Slugs fly around a nigga, I need a camera in my face

Units being sold, beautiful as gold

And try to a get a plaque quick, a liar for this rap shit

[Chorus: IMF Blue Steele]

Thanks to to the good Lord, I made it through the hood wars

Now I'm trying to book tours, nigga (cuz I seen did it all)

After this rap shit, I'm not going back with this

Sleeping on a pissy-ass mattress (cuz I done did it all)

Thanks to this mic check, a nigga get the right cheques

No longer gotta worry what the price is (cuz I'ma get it all)

Now, I shall slide through life

And paint pictures for ya eye through mics (and y'all I could hear it all)

[IMF Blue Steele]

I survived lots of fights on lots of nights

Now my wrist all chipped with rocks, aight?

Ya like? And this is just a pitstop

Y'all trying to get props, not me, I'ma get rich, watch

Spend another hundred thou' on a wrist watch

Niggas like, "Son is running wild in that 6 drop"

Yeah, but I'm still awesome with the tongue

Keep the larcen on me, son

With that grip shirt, I'm looking like a Martian with a gun

Parking in the slums, hopping out, niggas blunts roll, offer Remy some

Son, will ya get that? Matter of fact, what is that?

That nigga said, "A little blueberry mixed with Kit Kat"

Y'all niggas just rap, I'm trying to Sinatra on them songs

Y'all niggas rocking on them wrong

Matter of fact, I'm Sammy Davis on the beats

So all that gat rap ya talk, make her save it for the streets

Cuz...

[Chorus]

[IMF Blue Steele]

When I mic check, I make niggas write cheques

I'm trying to live life, yes, bitch with nice breasts

Little nice sectionary project groupies

Give me a budget to direct movies

Just a can't lose these, tie up to the street

If I die, I'ma still be alive on these beats

God forbid, so I jar with the niz

These niggas is gon' not take this father from his kids

It's hard when you live in the slums with ya babies

That's why y'all niggas be trying to run from ya babies

I ain't going nowhere, I'ma show my seeds

How you could go from nothing to 4 to 5 E's

I'm looking for 6 daughters and 4 David's

Business lawyers on my caller I.D.'s

Coffee in the morning, sugar in the bowl

I'm flossy when I'm yawning, there's bullets in my boats

[Chorus]

[Outro: IMF Blue Steele]

Shit, nigga, shit, nigga, shit nigga, come on...