From a small ass little tadpole swimmin in a fallopian tube. To a fixture on my soil a stand up type a dude. I was brought up in the crack game dealin and pushin that stuff. Arguing with my folkers cause we loved eachother so much. Ditchin and dodgin the rollers grippin the block real tuff. Strikin and scootin them Novas and them Chevrolet stepside trucks. Me and my brother Dennel Kevin Dalon and Black. Little Ray Billy and Ivory and them from the Magazine Street camp. Posted up like thumbtacks talking on faulty big backs. Motorola A1 yola glad bag fulla Tic Tacs. In the mean time in between time in my spare time writin raps. In the front yard in the driveway on the concrete shootin craps. You think you know but you really don't have no idea. Listen to discography of E40 real talk for real. Moons ago way before I even had a career. I got my nickname on the turf for drinking hecka beer. And never letting the older cats up in my hood pump fear. Funkin with my own soil listen here. Jealous cause we had all the broads and all the gear. Up the ladder I'm tryin to climb game sharper than a porcupine spine. Don't gimme nothing I'ma work for mine try and grind grit and grind. Hot ones echo through the ghetto funkin all the time. I thank the Lord for giving me the gift to spit this rhyme. A loaf of bread a stick of butter and some milk. Around the corner from the spot where all the dealers dealt. Trials and tribul-i-zations me and my peopl-i-zations. Tryin to get this music off the ground with high ass expectations. Took a little time and patience a little faith in God. To make a long story short look at me now sahob. I'm doing it chubby like the checker chunky like the soup. A de- a decade and a half and still in the loop. In case you suckers didn't know I told you once before. I ain't rapping too fast see y'all just listening too slow. I paved the way for the independent grind.