Yeah I appreciate your patience tonight. It’s been a moment since I done some public speaking. I find nowadays its best to keep quiet. But Uh. Sometimes you just gotta let it out. Young Angel and Young Lion. You know What I is. . Ughh Look. I’m the property of October. I ain’t drive here. I got chauffeured. Bring me champagne flutes rose and some shots over. I think better when I’m not sober. I Smoke goodie no glaucoma. I’m a stock holder. Private flights back home. No stop over. Still spittin’ that shit that they shot Pac over. The shit my mother looked shocked over. Haha Yeah. What a canvas. I’m the group of 7. Migraine take 2 Excedrin. I’m the one twice over. I’m the new 11. And if I die. I’m do it reppin’. I never do it second. I swear niggaz be eyeing me all hard. And lying to their girls. And drivin’ the same cars. Sittin’ there. Wishing their problems became ours. Cuz we have nothing in common. Since I done became star. I done became bigger. Swervin’ right into my peer’s lanes. Same dudes that used to holler my engineer’s name. One touch. I could make the drapes and the sheers change. And show me the city. That I without fear claim. What I set seems to never extinguish. Coolest kid out baby. Word to Chuck Inglish. Count my own money. See the paper cut fingers. My song is your girlfriend’s wakin’ up ringer. Haha. Or alarm or whatever. She be here 6 in the morn. If I let her. But I never get attracted to fans. Cuz a eager beaver. Could be the collapse of a dam. Always knew that I could figure. How to get these label heads to offer him good figures. And me doing the shows. Getting everyone nervous. Cuz them hipsters gone have to get along with them hood niggaz. Its all good. I’m going off like lights when the shows’ over. Make Pasta rent a movie called Hoes over. Rest in peace to Heath Ledger. But I’m no Joker. I’ll slow roast ya. Got no holster. Wet glass on your table nigga. No coaster. Burn bread everyday boy. No toaster. G & Terrence got a cig. But I’m no smoker. They just handed chips to me nigga. No poker. I’m with a young money cash money soldier. My cup runneth over. The same niggas I ball with. I fall with. On some southern draw shit. Rookie of the year. 06 Chris Paul shit. D.R. CJ & Po. I see y’all. These cases don’t work out. I hope we can agree on. Makin enough to pay any judge Judy off. First thing I’m a do is. Free Weezy. Go... And I’ll take probation. I don’t want that T.I. and Vick vacation. Private plane. Pick location. I’m going to the bank. To make a big donation. Yeah. I don’t stunt. I stunt hard. And If the food ain’t on the stove. I hunt for it. But in the mean time. You can call me Young Roy Jones Junior. Fightin’ the drugs and gun charges. Shit. Don’t leave me unguarded. And I’m a cheese head. Word to Vince Lambardy. Word to Marky Mark. Leave a snitch departed. All that blood like the red tea party. My gun go crazy like its retarded. Red light on it like its recordin’. I ain’t recordin’. I’m Just C-4ing. My currency foreign. We are in. A league they aren’t. Better dig in your pocket. And pay homage. Better cover your eyes. Your face fallin’. Watch the game from the side. I’m play callin’. No I didn’t say that I’m flawless. but I. Damn sure don’t tarnish. My pistol got comments. For your garments. I’m so high. I can vomit on a comet. K.Y. No Homo. I’m on it. Weezy F baby. Newborn bitch. You know what they say bout when your palm itch. I’m gone get money. Money I’m gone get. Young Money in your tummy. And we gone shit. And get that toilet paper quick. Like when Bone spit. That’s right bitch. I’m back on my grown shit. That automark game. No ice just chrome shit. And you boyfriend softer than a foam pit. I scream fuck the world. With a long dick. Motherfucker I’m me. Yeah. Bitch I’m me. you niggas sweet like the pussy. In which I eat. Fireman burn down your entire street. So fly I’m take off when I leap. Bye….. And you can suck my wings. Stand on my money. Head butt Yao Ming. Put your hand in the oven. If you touch my things. I’m shufflin’ my cards. im Bout to cut my queens. Hehe. But I ain’t the dealer. House full of bitches like Tila Tequila. Yeah. I’m the man in the mirror. My swagger just screaming. Motherfucker!. Do you hear her?. Yeah. Drizzy Drake. What the lick read?. We make magic. Boy. Roy & Siegfreid. . Wooh!. Young Mullah Baby. Yeah