Psssssssssssshhhhhhh, get the fuck outta my face wit that/ You know what I went through to-, naw on second thought, take it back/ You wouldn't have half an idea/ Cause you never even had half of an actual idea/ Can trace the whole path of ya career, cubicle/ And after a handfull and some years you get to move up to/ The corner room of an office slash studio, where the walls are movable/ And you share workspace wit ya partner Julio/ You at ya "real job" thinkin you killin it/ You not even gettin the standard company privileges/ You at ya desk job swearin you makin some differences/ They won't even give you employee country club benefits/ You at ya "serious job" swear it's not for the dividends/ Can't use the private weight room and spa they denyin you membership/ So the next time you lookin down on me remember this/ I'm livin my life to the fullest of it's experiences/
Can I live?
How you expect me to react/ While I'm steadily listenin to Relapse and see where I need to be at/ So pardon me for wantin to keep tabs on my beeswax/ And questions bout my future I don't wanna be asked/ Look, you should just know I'm headin somewhere prosperous/ Where manufactured artists and copycats hardly get/ So if your eponymous debut album's filled with garbage it's obvious/ When the shit hits the fan it's not gonna stick/ So maybe go back to the drawin board chico/ Ya last shot's lookin like a free throw, and you're O'Neal/ You can't go where we go/ But go'on and put ya boots on and bring ya posse if you wannd do-si-do/ Back to ruminatin on my prospects/ Weddin a brown skinned queen who hails from the tropics/ Raisin about three kids and maybe adoptin/ A bedroom for each one and a couple extra for houseguests/ Linin up the kids to get these Christmas cards sent/ "Just don't act up for ten minutes, you know how ya mom gets"/ Us all placed strategically, posin in mocknecks/ "Season's Greetings" at the the top, and the bottom'll read, "God Bless"/ I'm spazin over shit I ain't even got yet/ Ten year anniversary box set/ Fans and critics alike heavily anticipatin the project/ Analysts predictin that it'll shut down the market/ I'll put a bet on all this, yea homey I got this/ Me not achievin is nonsense/ You ain't seen confidence on this level, no not since/ Sinatra maneuvered through all the rumors and gossip/ As cool as with the Prez as in a room full of mobsters/ You couldn't be on par wit if you knew all of the golf tricks/ Consider this a bomb threat on life you know that death is right/ Around the corner and if you met ya end tonight and saw God you'd ask dumb questions like, like/
Psssssssssssshhhhhhh, get the fuck outta my face wit that/
ReplyDeleteYou know what I went through to-, naw on second thought, take it back/
You wouldn't have half an idea/
Cause you never even had half of an actual idea/
Can trace the whole path of ya career, cubicle/
And after a handfull and some years you get to move up to/
The corner room of an office slash studio, where the walls are movable/
And you share workspace wit ya partner Julio/
You at ya "real job" thinkin you killin it/
You not even gettin the standard company privileges/
You at ya desk job swearin you makin some differences/
They won't even give you employee country club benefits/
You at ya "serious job" swear it's not for the dividends/
Can't use the private weight room and spa they denyin you membership/
So the next time you lookin down on me remember this/
I'm livin my life to the fullest of it's experiences/
Can I live?
How you expect me to react/
While I'm steadily listenin to Relapse and see where I need to be at/
So pardon me for wantin to keep tabs on my beeswax/
And questions bout my future I don't wanna be asked/
Look, you should just know I'm headin somewhere prosperous/
Where manufactured artists and copycats hardly get/
So if your eponymous debut album's filled with garbage it's obvious/
When the shit hits the fan it's not gonna stick/
So maybe go back to the drawin board chico/
Ya last shot's lookin like a free throw, and you're O'Neal/
You can't go where we go/
But go'on and put ya boots on and bring ya posse if you wannd do-si-do/
Back to ruminatin on my prospects/
Weddin a brown skinned queen who hails from the tropics/
Raisin about three kids and maybe adoptin/
A bedroom for each one and a couple extra for houseguests/
Linin up the kids to get these Christmas cards sent/
"Just don't act up for ten minutes, you know how ya mom gets"/
Us all placed strategically, posin in mocknecks/
"Season's Greetings" at the the top, and the bottom'll read, "God Bless"/
I'm spazin over shit I ain't even got yet/
Ten year anniversary box set/
Fans and critics alike heavily anticipatin the project/
Analysts predictin that it'll shut down the market/
I'll put a bet on all this, yea homey I got this/
Me not achievin is nonsense/
You ain't seen confidence on this level, no not since/
Sinatra maneuvered through all the rumors and gossip/
As cool as with the Prez as in a room full of mobsters/
You couldn't be on par wit if you knew all of the golf tricks/
Consider this a bomb threat on life you know that death is right/
Around the corner and if you met ya end tonight and saw God you'd ask dumb questions like, like/
Can I live?
,,,...,,,