I wanna be the best
|
who ever did it
|
Don't know if that goal is
|
feasible or it isn't
|
But if it is thank God
|
if you're listenin'
|
Please give me the strength
|
to crush all competition
|
You can't blame me
|
for dreaming
|
I'm a dreamer
|
And if I'm coming off brash
|
Please forgive me
|
But that's all I want
|
I just wanna be the illest MC
|
that's all I want
|
The same time being
|
as real as can be
|
Mayhem sickness
|
murder horror
|
These are the kind of words
|
that describe my aura
|
G Rap Ras Kass Kurupt
|
Redman I am cut
|
from that cloth
|
Write a rhyme about me
|
You a dead man
|
Cool J I'm Bad video
|
Learn the whole routine
|
and perform it
|
for my father's friends
|
While they smoked and drank
|
Symphony D.O.C. inspired me
|
to write what
|
Would eventually put me
|
on airplanes like B.o.B
|
Canibus Wu-Tang
|
you know our history
|
but hats off
|
When we rap this Jack Frost
|
We outline the track chalk
|
Thank God
|
for the one-two cadence
|
Thank God
|
for the lunchroom tables
|
I'm trying to be the sickest nigga
|
Dead or alive
|
And if I happen to fall short
|
It's been one hell of a ride
|
Chronic 1 and 2
|
Looking up at the sky
|
at the sun
|
Up until the day
|
the sun is you
|
You listening to hip-hop
|
You in Jay's house
|
Wayne's house
|
Nas' house
|
Em's house
|
Our House
|
So welcome to our house
|
Where no one
|
Comes back out
|
You won't find comfort
|
In here in here in here
|
When I was a little boy
|
I wanted to be a rapper
|
Wanted to be on the radio
|
and snapping pictures after
|
And so I grabbed my pen
|
and pad and scribbled
|
chitter chatter
|
It started off whack
|
But in the words of a ten year old
|
My shit was getting phatter
|
I hit the studio at 16
|
Stupid ill
|
Not knowing
|
how the booth would feel
|
What's ADAT's and two inch reel
|
How you ad-lib
|
What's a punch
|
I ain't a boxer
|
But I sure enough
|
learned the ropes
|
look D and Mike
|
You made a monster
|
Now everyday's
|
a game of Contra
|
I got 99 men
|
An infinite amount of rounds
|
inside this mighty fine pen
|
This is my dream
|
Don't fuck with it
|
I'm telling you
|
Cause anyone can get dusted
|
as long as production
|
is available
|
I'm disgusted as a fan
|
Look how niggas sounding damn
|
Weak head
|
Ya'll suck bad
|
Fuck swag and your kicks
|
from South Japan
|
I'm finna to be the best
|
in this profession
|
I've been invested all my life
|
So wipe your feet
|
before you step in
|
Our house
|
So welcome to our house
|
Where no one
|
Comes back out
|
You won't find comfort
|
In here in here in here
|
I wanna be the best
|
who ever did it
|
Don't know if that goal is
|
feasible or it isn't
|
But if it is thank God
|
if you're listenin'
|
Please give me the strength
|
to crush all competition
|
You can't blame me
|
for dreaming
|
I'm a dreamer
|
And if I'm coming off brash
|
Please forgive me
|
But that's all I want
|
I just wanna be the illest MC
|
that's all I want
|
The same time being
|
as real as can be
|
Yo In my house
|
The lights out
|
No utilities in the facilities
|
Feeling my life's 'bout
|
To wipe out
|
These feelings
|
I'm feeling be killing me
|
I pull the mic out
|
Can't strike out
|
Cause if winning is
|
really my enemy
|
I pull a nine out
|
Blow my mind out
|
Is the end of me
|
really serenity
|
Man in my house
|
It's rap or die
|
Get a piece of that apple pie
|
Life is a Pharcyde song
|
and that bitch just passes by
|
So I got lyrically complex
|
That way I could clock checks
|
Get my moms out the projects
|
With these concepts
|
competition can't digest
|
And then I stress
|
cause the road is rough
|
I start feeling like shit's sour
|
The electricity in my will power
|
Could still power
|
The twin towers
|
For ten hours so send cowards
|
The message from Crooked I
|
Royce Da 5
|
Joe Budden
|
Em Yaowa
|
In our house we spit
|
like Sig Sauers
|
The way I feel now
|
I could spit for six hours
|
Straight only way to be great
|
is to dig down
|
if you can hear this sound in
|
Side my head sounds
|
like a fucking drive-by
|
That's what the inside of
|
my mind's like
|
Looking back on
|
My career even
|
Hindsights
|
Tunnel vision
|
5 mics
|
Never wanted that so bad
|
well I got-ta go mad
|
No mad with a notepad
|
Go Taz spaz on these ho bags
|
That bother me
|
| But I never wanna sho |
