hip hop is what makes me lift off this rock so i won't give up my shot
since i've got the gift of the gods even if i'm livin against all odds
because gettin a job is just a prison to us men in my squad
and the minimum's not an interest, i want my two cents printed
then when i am gone with the wind, i'll become more than an "any one" fans would visit
but can i be strong, bigger, less blonde and bitter along my adventure to expand my existence
i'll calm down and simmer, but something's wrong like i never belonged a winner
my songs are considered as dung, so should i surrender my wand and end it
or defend with the pen which i don to enter beyond and attend as would a contender
well, i've fought many pretenders amongst but i'm feeling more spent after months
yet sittin like i'm benched will pin my butt forever i figure
i guess now i must remeasure my every step to master my level
yes, i treasure the picture of me single handedly grasping elixer
that no plant could possess to deliver to the rest to uncensor whatever's the mess
and maybe you'd remember my quest cuz my vision's no letter but rather a mission
to spread a message of wisdom, answering your questions you ask, they really matter, i'll listen