These damn days.. people seem to be enraged
But they fail to look for cover in beef like.. Lady Gaga at the VMA’s
I be the race.. that gets thrown out of a triple K club
‘bout to black out.. then rip you lame fucks
Going against me is suicide.. so step away loner
‘cause I kill you on your own shit like the Segway owner
Even with a ten day boner you couldn’t stay in line
You shouldn’t pay in lines if you don’t buy what you write
By what you write I can tell you stay bold.. and some
My lines keep people guessing like the name of that J. Cole album
I may hold anthems in the area of hood music
See my pen push a pad mos def to the area of G.O.O.D music
Drop the gangsta attitude.. you just look stupid
You better step aside.. ‘cause I wreck all lies
Real G’s tend to be silent.. like the one in recognize
I don’t get cold feet.. even if my leg on ice
A cold entrance.. I freeze vertebras.. I’m back on ice
What you lack, son might.. be the solution
To the seclusion of a rapper’s illusion.. the evolution
Must be triggered.. otherwise we’ll reside in pollution
My music caters to my emotions.. No gun stuff
You ask me what I make mood music for? Go ask Jumpoff