/Truth is I hate you, yeah, you that listens/ But my label says chill, wants to scrap my image/ Says you could give a damn for all my difference/ Says you'd would pay attention if some hits were written/ Said that's whats up, scratched my nuts, and then I ripped out my heart again/ Started out Motorhead, then ended up Cardigans/ And if I'm too wordy.../ Then I'll wear that early, least ya'll heard me/ It's unnerving, I keep blurting/ They m-squared, I'm a emcee searching/ pen a def jam, not a L.A. Reid hit/ Turned their swag on, but then I ain't see shit/ If that's what it takes, then I don't need this/ Matter fact, get fucked, and dismount my penis/ this here'll be a hoe down with my demons/ and after I thrown down, you can bet I'm leaving/


Light up my cigarette, be done with dinner yet/
I get tired of seeing dawn/
Eyelids stretching, Mild depression/
Glued to the screen as I write a song/

Down in the Dixie, the view so's scenic/ But there's no scene, not for what I'm weaving/ Worn tapestries from the same ol fabric/ Three piece with a liquor flask, age old sabbath/ A young cottontail tryna fuck like rabbits/ Pocket tucked habits, outta luck magic/ It's all, it's all but a passing thing/ Just a young bastard tryna cash his dream/ Finger rolled point fives, ash in streams/ Put my headphones on and try tax my scheme/ Deal with old friends wanna laugh at me/ Say you still rappin', you sappy Steve/