The game is f*cked up. Ni**as beats is banging. Ni**a your hooks did it. Your lyrics didn't. Your gangster look did it. So I would write it. If y'all could get it. Being intricate. Get you wood critics. On the internet. They like u should spit. I'm like you should buy it. Ni**a that's good business. Forget this rap sh*t. I need a new hustle. A lil bit of everything. The new improved rustle. I say that reluctantly cause I do struggle. As you see I can't leave. So I do love you. But I'm just a hustler disguised as a rapper. In fact you can't fit this hustle inside of a wrapper. Back when crack was what these pills are. I was a real star. Complete with real cars. No video ones. You can come set up a camera and let the video run. And my real life. Complete with real ice. VVS boulders all invisibly set. Head and shoulders. My invisible neck. You see HOVA wasn't digital yet. Before Steve Jobs made the iPod. I was getting head jobs. We call that intimate. Back when rappers wouldn't dare play. Lyrical roulette. With an automatic weapon. I was repping with a Tech. Fresh like Manny be. Chain like antifreeze. Shoebox full of cash. Dealer man hand me keys. Pantries full of Arm & Hammer. Don't take Nancy Drew to see. What it do I'm a damn G. Just sent a million dollars through a hands free. That's big money talk can you answer me. Before the answer was a 3. I was down in Georgetown. With a Hoya bitch lawyer bitch. Sure he's rich now. Cause he saw this sh*t all this sh*t. That's why they call him HOV. Cause he came before all this sh*t. Bought a 6 quarter seven. Skipped on them quarter eights. Bought a Nine from nonstop clock work. All the time. Guess who's back. Since this is a new era. I gotta fresh new hat. 10-year veteran. I been said I been through. With this bullsh*t game but I never can. I used to think rapping at 38 was ill. But last year alone I grossed 38 mill. I know I ain't quite 38 but still. The flow is so special got a 38 feel. The real is back