Yeah, you remember back in the days

When **** used to rock waves and shit?

When like, yo, I had the fucking 360s, my ****

Like nobody in the hood was fucking with my shit

And that's real shit

Uhh, since '9-5, momma been working nine-five

And I know the landlord fed up with our lies

So we pray to the Gods, the Jahs and the Allahs

To keep us safe and watch our lives

'Cause all we tryna do is do good

Put on my hood when I walk through hoods

'Cause these **** these days is loco

You'll get it in ya vocals if you ain't a local

Yeah, that's why I'm tryna go global

Yeah, that's why I'm tryna be a mogul

And I'm hopeful that me spittin' it soulful

Will have me in the Daily Postal, flying coastal, eatin' tofu

Like I told you, I know **** who trash rappin'

Worried 'bout the trendin' fashions rather than ascendin' passion

They want me send 'em tracks but I just send 'em laughter

Right after I start laughin', they start askin' "What happened?"

But back to the chapter

Momma told me "Follow dreams", should never have to ask her to

So that's what I do, became an MC master

Since then it's been a disaster for you and your favorite rapper

Go ahead, ask 'em "Who is Joey Bad?"

Watch 'em gasp, asthma, damn, it's so sad

He paused the chatter 'cause he know he rather back up

Than to admit the kid is hotter than magma

But fuck it, you gotta give credit where it's due

'Cause you ain't gon' like the karma when it's set up on you

It can get you on your medical, fuck you up in the decimals

Or get you 2 to 3 for residue found in your retinal

And they told me not to be so complex

Dumb it down to accomplish articles in Complex

And The Source — alfredo, of course

There I go again, steppin' out of line, runnin' off course

I heard reports that it's like sexual intercourse

With your thoughts when I talk about the shoes in which I walk

For it is not faux, nor false that this kid from the north

Speaks with forced supports of reinforced assaults

I'm sure by now you can assume he never lost

Unless with some form of divorce, or a corpse

Born boss, no days off, child labor

Let me see those in favor to spin that back like tornadoes

What the rap audience ain't ready for is a real person

You know what I wanna say: a real N-I-G-G-A

I'm coming at 'em 100% real, I ain't compromising naythin'

Anybody that talk about me got problems, you know what I'm sayin'

It's gonna be straight-up, like if I was a street person

That's how I'm comin' at the whole world

And I'm being real about it and I'ma grow with my music

Yeah, but it's far from over

Won't stop 'til I meet Hova and my momma's in a Rover

'Til I'm an owner of the world's finest motors

I blow like supernovas in your daughter's room on a poster

Known as history's biggest musical composer

No disrespect to Bob Mar, but yeah, another stoner

Marijuana my odor, and when I get older

Hope my spermatozoa from my scrotum intercepts an ovum

Like three times, have three kids

I hope me and my wife can show 'em not to make the same mistakes you know that we did

I hope they acknowledge the knowledge

'Cause yeah, they gon' need it

'Cause when my parents tried to tell me, I just wouldn't receive it

Couldn't believe it, till I saw with my own pupils

Felt bad when I learned that their advice was truly useful

But fuck it, only made us as human beings more mutual

Even though over time, my punishments, they grew more crucial

Should use the word brutal, cause my parents mad strict

Hope one day I'll attract the likes of even Madlib

Go gold on mad shit and hear my songs mastered

Until then, all I can do is imagine

Imagine, I'ma make it all happen