Joell, my goodness. Gets better by each line…
As a youngin’, had a lot on my plate I ain’t finna complain, just had a lot on my plate Razors, 12 12 skinnies and 58s I cooked a 6 deuce and came back with 58 I ain’t stressin’, I ain’t stretch it, I just cheffed it in the butter Orville Redenbacher, had it poppin’, word to mother Swervin’ under covers, had it local, had it OT Whippin’ up P-O-T tryna get to the T-O-P Get in and get out, that’s always the plan But all of them bands to a kid in the project who had nothin’, so damned Hard to let go from starvin’ stomach, hollow with the echo To the hardest Marc Ecko extra large retro MJs before they dropped, but a lot started to drop Stick up kids got the drop, my sneaker box dropped Dropped crack, switched to diesel when some fiends dropped Feds eavesdroppin” on my drop, got ’em street blocked They dropped by my man’s spot so now he locked I drop to both knees prayin’ dimes don’t get dropped Dropped it all, be the bird locked in the coupe Or take your talent more serious and lock in that booth I chose the latter, and thank God for showin’ Joe the ladder Helped me climb through these rhymes Who said I would never matter? Look at me, such a hard act to follow Lookin’ forward to tomorrow, you’ll never hear me holler
Just My Thoughts 