Flow bold while other styles grow old I know soul music
Ended with James Brown nobody else claims the crown he used it
To bring happiness, look I eat aged cheese and amaze emcees
Each time I teach them rhyme reach for my nine and shoot these
Rounds in my pocket, cats duck down as shell casing struck
The ground, secure my home and mature on the microphone
When rappingt and slapping domes with lyrics and sterafoam
Hustler won’t last as they come in clusters and mass like grapes
Pluck them off vines can get corrupt with rhymes no one escapes
Wear bling and leather and this bring together my personality
Never a fatality in rap a lot a reality crap take place effect my salary
Some cats smoke cess and like crime it don’t promote progress
So happy smoke not the best just a crappy joke leading to stress