School ya’ll to somethin right quick. Sit down open your ears close your eyes listen. Here’s a little story that I got to tell. About this Chico named Pit everyone knows so well. Illmatic like Nas but that ain’t hard to tell. Owes it all to Dade County and the ATL. Picked rap and skipped the triple beam scale. And it’s a known fact he gon’ die before he fails. These boys rap about hustlin’ but cant make bail. I call that hustling backwards and that’s real. Miami’s hot so I can vacation in hell. The way the game is shit man I mind as well. I look at these fools on camera flashin’ they tools. They must’ve forgot the streets got codes and rules. But me I’m confused. ‘Cause rappers wanna be gangstas. Gangstas wanna be rappers. Ballers wanna be rappers. And rappers wanna be ballers. The truth is its more sickening than Ebola. Until they handcuff then its over. Pop up no dandruff no neck just head and shoulders. Bust guns sell drugs that’s what the streets showed us. But corporate America that’s what they sold us