Yeah, ohh Check me out, look It goes love, hate, pleasure and pain...
Yeah, ohh Check me out, look It goes love, hate, pleasure and pain Four albums in the can and I'm still in the game And last album, they don't like me to tell this Debuted at number one and sold more records than Elvis That's what they telling me, switch up your melody Through with misdemeanors, they tryin' to give rappers felonies So they can lock us up one at a time But true writers stay free in every one of our lines And if you not feelin' I'm the cream of the crop I'll knock rappers off your list 'til I get to the top Still you lookin' at a man that's financially stable Only n***a gettin' checks cut from four different labels That Pillsbury dough, women poke my guts Still I walk around the streets like I'm broke as f**k So if you see me in your town and I appear to be moody It's 'cause I'm thinkin' 'bout plans that's bigger than Serena Booty Me and Shaka still starving and lookin' for meals And heads up, Ludacris is almost out of his deal I'm over ten million sold, every album is crack And for now I'm 'bout to carry Def Jam on my back Mad rappers I hear you talkin' way down at the bottom Though I make big money, still handle small problems The rambling at the mouth, I don't play that shit I'm the best and I ain't really got say that shit
writers: Harris, Shawntae / Mosley, Timothy Z / Jackson, Millie / Mitchell, Carl Terrell
copyright: Ultra Tunes, Royalty Network, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group, EMI Music Publishing
Lyrics Licenced & Provided by LyricFind