I'm gettin the ahh, I'm gettin the ahh from the weak shit that I hear no lyrical styles come near to the one who boasts like Buck On the mic truck, cuz I never gave a fuck I hate the weak shit, man it be fuckin with my soul I peeped how radio be trying to take control Tellin me to get a little lighter on my lyrics But if it ain't real on the mic I can't feel it Straight from my bloodstream, I pump finesse Nevertheless, hold it in your chest like stress Rhythm and blues style is not in my environment And when I "slowww dowwwn" it's time to take a hit But until I fall off, call off your set and if you never knew me, then you never knew wreck Look inside of the mind and see Cause you might be trapped with a nigga like me I feel like I'm trapped in the motherfuckin cave To the rhythm I'm a slave, lookin in my grave Jugulur vein bustin out my neck, you see the rage I move when I groove cuz I'm into, the stage of the Buckshot, black, I'm bringin it back to the roots, like Timberland boots, home on my rack And I don't give a FUCK what you say Commercial rap, get the gun clap, day after day Niggaz don't play on the d low, kid you know my steelo I roll on more niggaz than cee-lo We might just bumrush your set Me AND my niggaz on the real mic check Like my nigga Smif gettin swift on the gift Then I toss another lesson to my nigga Wessun And my nigga Five from the tribe of Moon Pass the Crooked I, bitch yo pass the boom Whenever you're ready I'ma take you into the stage Deep in the mind of a slave