I started in the game on the grind and I still am. All of it off the sweat on my back without a deal man. Spit it real and treat em like protected areas in Alaska. Cause they about to know the drill man. So f*ckin' illy that I got to pop a pill again Adderall. X all 20 or 30 milligrams. Gotta stay focused in the land of opportunity. Prepared for any twist and turn that anybody threw at me. Grew to be a beast learned it all up in the cypher. All off the top slaughtered 90% of you writers. Regardless of my f*ckin' heritage and nationality. I grew up decapitating anybody who battled me. Rapping rapidly ain't nobody be lapping me. Jackie joiner curses 26 paces in back of me. An alcoholic but f*ck it homie I'd rather be. Liquored up not giving a f*ck and living lavishly. On the go hard diet I burn calories. Setting fire to mics til the melted plastic and ash you see. I've lost my marbles somebody should straight jacket me. Latch it and throw the key in the deepest part of the blackest sea. Toss me on an island like f*ckin' Survivor casted me. And still I'll make it back and make every hater a casualty. Running Connecticut shouts to my homie Apathy. And shouts to everyone who supported me on my path to be. Successful in one way or an other cus grammatically. They know no one could f*ck with my metaphorical masterpiece. Got the f*ckin' Grim Reaper coming after me. The good die young someone show me where the casket be. I keep on moving forward. With my head held high. I do this sh*t forever or at least until I die. Ain't no use in stopping. I got nothing left to hide. I do this sh*t forever. You couldn't stop me if you tried. Nobody f*ckin' with my flow man. Modern day Comanche swords swinging in both hands. Hip hop is all I know man dank. B*tches to Chronic 2001 motherf*ckin' Slow Jam. Keep grinding til the day that Webby holds the belt. Make my haters sit the f*ck down Franky Roosevelt. With that polio flow homie I'm dope as hell. Captain of my movement and I'm treating all of my soldiers well. My fans know I won't give rhyming a rest. And I mean that from the left side of my chest. I got heart so all you motherf*ckers step your game up. Me with a microphone is like Bob Ross with a paint brush. All you lame f*cks getting pummeled from the waist up. I don't need a cheap shot to leave your raps laid up. Shane Mosley with punches f*ckin' your face up. Eating at roofs Chris now let me raise the stakes up. I keep on moving forward. With my head held high. I do this sh*t forever or at least until I die. Ain't no use in stopping. I got nothing left to hide. I do this sh*t forever. You couldn't stop me if you tried. I keep on moving forward. With my head held high. I do this sh*t forever or at least until I die. Ain't no use in stopping. I got nothing left to hide. I do this sh*t forever. You couldn't stop me if you tried