[Hook]

I put the work in like number 23

Grew the fruits of my labor from a money tree

Made my business my pleasure so it’s fun to me

I keep the faith and I leave the hate under me

I put the work in like number 23

Grew the fruits of my labor from a money tree

Made my business my pleasure so it’s fun to me

I keep the faith and I leave the hate under me

Watch me elevate my game to the highest level

I’m leavin’ full speed ahead foot on the pedal

Why’d they desire to slash my tires and only throw pebbles?

I’m never off course, they’ll never know my level

So enter Golden Era like we won four medals

‘Cause my team can’t be beat and that’s why we defeat these devils

See, we can win it all once we win our division

So we always take advantage of the chances we’ve been given

Plus we keep it UPS, and deliver with precision

Proficient rhymes, we take the heat and make a great decision

But every MJ needs a Pippen

And Michael dreamt about the titles

Now it’s written

Can’t forget the Dream Team, that’s when he had it

MJ with Larry, David, and played with Magic

True to form, the uniform’s not faded fabric

Truth and the mindful pursuit, no dated habit

So keep in mind that talent wins games, but brains win the rings

When Phil came in, the Bulls became Kings

So I receive what I need, like I’m David Patten

I don’t want, I don’t wish, I just make it happen

[Hook]

Bitch I'm ballin’, you just be the referee

Flow on a higher pedigree, buss it ‘til you rest in piece (peace)

Somethin’ like MJ on the mic, I'm a fuckin’ beast

Couldn't make it the league but I'm like an athlete on funky beats

Chevy on ’95, goin’ ‘bout 93

Smokin’ swishas to the head, the clouds is where you findin’ me

Eatin’ with this green like I done swallowed some lima beans

I'm spittin’ dictionaries, teach ya suckas what rhymin’ means

Ya style’s holier than swiss cheese, you too phony

Bet ya ho miss me, treats my dick like a cannoli

Your substance be like skull and bones, you frontin’ hoe’

Hold the phone

‘Fore you quit ya day job

Play god and your blasphemous tactics get you in a supposed accident

Attack you and them wack quacks you wit

Packin’ spliffs in my Retros press close on the elevator door

‘Bout to soar, hit it big like Jordan in ‘84

[Hook]