Yo, a lot of people depend on me (strongly)

I no longer wanna pursue situations wrongly

They say that a man's life, gon' be what it's gon' be

So I switched the game around, and now it's on me

(You control your destiny) You **** keep testin' me

Like you want me to show you how messy a mess can be

(You're still a bang-banger) One of Saratoga's finest

But first involved, the 'tician denyin' law, making ya highness [???]

(Yo Bill, what'd you stop for man, what'd you stop for?

Teach 'em, tell 'em how you feel!)

As I struggle to get my hands on a dollar today

I think back about cats that have passed away

That's why I feel more cursed than blessed

And I wonder what in this world, more worse than stress

I'm a mess with stress, though I present it with finesse

Sometimes I feel as if my heart is comin' out my chest

I smoke too many cigarettes, and the Remy won't

Wash away the pain or get strain off my brain

See it's the way, we, roll down here, stroll down here

A shootout, is like a common cold out here

That's why I sit back and I laugh at y'all

When it's crunchtime on the frontline, I will blast at y'all

I'm from Saratoga Avenue, I had to brawl!

It's where I realized it's a cold world, after all

You hear me talkin to y'all? I'm on some grown Danze shit

(You'll be coming of age) My life is on a different page, able to tame my rage

A little bit different from the first time I picked up a gauge

A little bit different from the first time I stepped on a stage

Take a look at me now – a born winner

In a race against time, like Bruce Jenner

A natural born sinner, can't nobody tame me, or change me

(For no reason at all he's angry, he'll) kill again!

{*beat changes*}

You are now tuned in to the Works Of Mart

Take two steps back – it's gon' hurt you, pa!

Who the fuck talkin' that they gon' hurt Jamal?

This ain't no diamond-studded rapper, it's the lover-stutter-slapper

Un-pretty type rapper, gritty type rapper

Fo'-five semi-automatic pipe clapper

With them O.G.'s in it, please don't get your shit twisted

Like bamboo with no trees in it

Fall back, motherfucker – you can't beat me

It's the Womack, the extension of Danzini

We came into the game with some change for train fare

Two Phillies, a dime bag, and a forty ounce of beer

Now look at him, they hittin' the scene slow

Hoo-ridin' in hoopties, but I'm lookin mean, yo

With a gangster lean though, big doggin' it

With my chrome ten inch hubcaps, but I keep 'em clean doe

I know the pros and cons so I married the game

Now it's mommy's little boy left to carry the name

I'm in the streets like a dope fiend with a shoppin' cart filled up with copper

Who the fuck gon' stop Fame?

Y'all **** keep waiting 'til they pop Fame

And hold your breath while you wait, bitch – I got game

**** ain't feelin' the Fame, bitch? Stop dreamin'

I'm the shit that felt good comin' out of my pop's semen

Hit the streets and thug with me

No matter how disgruntled you sound ****, you can't fuck with me

Too many dick-riders that's quick to go "blaow!"

But look, bitch – I'ma let you know now:

You fuckin' with thugs, what the fuck you think this was?!

I'm what you want me to be, stop fuckin' with me

Cause I'm a **** of the Earth (Earth!), **** of the sea (Sea!)

**** of the sky and (Fire!!!), flame fire

Why don't I-ah, dump back at your men?

It's M.O.P. and we at it again, ah-heh!

I ain't clappin' over your head

I'mma make sure I pop somethin' through ya

Givin' motherfuckers ulcers with lead

Have your parents and the pastor huddled over your bed

May the Lord be with you – game over, you're dead

Motherfucker!