Here’s the thing about this bullshit,
Rap music.
The words don’t matter,
If the beat’s bumpin.

I could spit a racial epitath,
Face paint black.
So song as the boom baps,
In the club, fuck that.

They label me a hater,
Doe.
But that’s exactally what I’m here
For.

Suicide bomber,
Slash sacpegoat.
Go ahead quote,
Bitch, tell ‘em all what I wrote.

Typed on a word doc,
No pencil.
Outside the lines,
Told ‘em fuck the stencil.

Im superficial,
Materialistics.
I like neon shoes,
And gaudy pendants

All about the trap shit,
(what?)
But I never even lived it,
(lame)

Ill accept the blame,
Minus the shame,
I want snapbacks and bling,
The kicks and fame, homie.

[Hook]

I never sold crack rocks,
(who cares?)
But ill spit about the dope spot,
(trapin’)

Right back to the flop house,
(All used up.)
They step that dub,
And the shit’s fucked up.

Sub or fusion,
Prefix to genre.
The list gets longer,
And TrapStep’s on it.

Concious Crunk,
It don’t seem likely,
But listen up about
What the rap game taught me

Lesson one,
The melting pot.
Most assimilate,
‘cept the cream of the crop.

We rise to the top,
And go one of two ways.
Either cast aside,
Or called ground breaking.

The waiting,
Got me straight trippin.
Want answers,
I need an expert opinion

So, damn..
What Would Jacob Do?
Askin’ my reflection,
‘cause I trust that dude.

[Hook]

Lesson two,
If you hold true pride,
Refuse to compromise.
Then you’re back on the sidelines,

Watchin life pass by.
One chance.
There’s a ton of supply
And very little demand.

I respect your itegrity,
Bro.
But its not how the game goes.
So,

You should be just like me,
Blatently,
Not giving a fuck,
About what they think.

Lesson three,
Its okay to sell out.
The root of evil,
Keeps you safe in the drought.

I would rather make dumb shit,
And get paid.
Then make new dope shit,
And make change.

Money wont make me happy,
But.
Then I could provide for
My family.

Sacrifices,
I’d make easily.
Just to be the best son,
That I can be. (truth)

[Hook]