Yeh, ohh!
Check me out, look
It goes love, hate, pleasure and pain
Foī albums in the can and Iīm STILL in the game (what up?)
And last album, they donīt like me to tell this
Debuted at #1 and sold more records than Elvis (shut up!)
Thatīs what they tellin me, switch up your melody
Through with misdemeanors, they tryin to give rappers felonies
So they can lock us up one at a time
But true writers stay FREE in eīry one of our lines
And if you not feelin Iīm the cream of the crop
Iīll KNOCK rappers off your list ītil I get to the top!
Still you lookin at a man thatīs financially stable
Only nigga gettin checks cut from four different labels
That Pillsbury dough, women poke my guts
Still I walk around the streets like Iīm broke as FUCK
So if you see me in your town and I appear to be moody
Itīs cause Iīm thinkin ībout plans thatīs bigger than Serena booty
Me and Shaka still starvin and lookin for meals
And HEADS UP! Ludacris is almost out of his deal
Iīm over ten million sold, every album is CRACK
And for now Iīm bout to carry Def Jam on my BACK
Mad rappers I hear you talkin way down at the bottom
Though I make big money, still handle small problems
The ramblin at the mouth, I donīt PLAY THAT SHIT
Iīm the best and I ainīt really got SAY THAT SHIT!
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