I’m just another young brother with rhymes, hoping to perfect my craft in due time

So I can perform for thousands of fans and there’s another few hundred waiting outside

Throwing up the LoMd signs, stunning the crowds call it that 3-1-6

I’m pulling out the city in the nicest whip, show up in the city perform with my boy Hicks

What am I saying, I’m playing, field day-ing, basically LoMd team is classy

Freddie Blassie you playing Lassie, don’t ever gas me

I’ll cut you off the top because you slept on me nappy

Everything I need is in the bars, a dude sound like the moo

I got one mic for Christmas, so I’m setting off 33 shots, 27 for your crew, and 6 towards you

Unless they come with the suu, if you looking down on me Biggie that was for you

How come no one caught on to the black cat in the knight for extortion?

How come republicans said yes to rape but no to the abortions?

How come every time I type it feels like the keys are scorching?

I’m on that New Era business and I don’t mean the clothes

So why don’t you take a trip down to meet me at the end of the Yellow Brick road

We ushering in a new season of life, who wanna star in my episodes

I woke up this morning next to this girl, I think it’s safe to say last night I rocked her world

Whispered in her and made her toes curl yelling where momma at earthquake

Made the room do ballet, twirl and swirl

Blew on her curls, trees blowing and I noticed this ain’t no ordinary girl

Looking into her eyes I saw the truth unfurl

Thinking to myself Freeman (breathe) the world

Ok I rep that L.o.m.d but throw shout outs to Mic City over everything

And JoeJas like you did Goldie I’m gon spaz

N.E.R.D that title is as revoked as Shyne’s West Coast pass

If Hip-Hop had a class I would be Columbine and you would be Kobe on the West Coast, don’t pass

Well you don’t score either I don’t know but you ain’t pro

Not materialistic but yeah I dream about bankrolls and stacks gone Manute Bol

But it’s about the soul, labels been controlling the systems of who gets a listen

It’s kinda scary but I ain’t selling out Cole and Kendrick didn’t then again results may vary

I’ve been told I’m only good for the penitentiary or the cemetery

Funny because I’m finally having cats showing me love like it was February

Heading to the top, eyes on being legendary

They throwing flags because my roughness on the mic is unneccesary

Intellectual, one day these decibels will equals decimals

Even if you skeptical, I’ll have tears falling out your retinal

I call it the LoMd but only like three repping though

Oh well I’m gone sell, till I sail and get stopped by a whale asking for autographs

Ok I admit that I’m crazy, but you will never persuade me to quit the rap game

I don’t care about money and fame

Well sure it’d be nice to have the newest fashions, and for y’all to know my name

But if y’all don’t get the message, then I’ll just be an aberration of what I shoulda became

If a chick spreads it open should I just get inside and bang

Think about the burn that could happen, and the pain

I wish cats would think outside their drawers and her bras

They say Freeman you lying because you ain’t had the chance to get it in and her plant her dead

Sure I could swim inside and beat it up hammerhead

But I rather keep the magic stick brown instead of Alabama red

Yeah that’s what I said, this is just me rhyming New Year’s day

Make a way, make a wish, then we pray