"Reminiscing on that, uh…
I remember they used to give us that free cheese...
A big block of that shit
Yeah, man I´m glad y’all ain´t gotta get that cheese

Man, I thank God my kids ain´t gotta see that cheese
Yo, you know what I’m saying?
You gotta feed it to them raw. Feel me?"

Renovating the ghettoes, moving me elsewhere
Daddy didn´t see pension they took his healthcare
Affordable housing and they fed us welfare
Showed us Tony Montana, teachers couldn´t care less
A young prince in Miami, son of a pharaoh
This is deeper than raps, I can´t run from the echoes
And I hear the screams
Under my mattress box springs, I still see the C.R.E.A.M
Mac 11 next to Grammy invitations
I´m never quiet, tell my niggas all my aspirations

No more beefing with rappers
It´s just murder or nothing
New positions to master, I perfected the others
Niggas shoot for the Magic, never heard of Matumbo
These are lucrative assets, golden words that will mumble you

This the biggest...
Corner store was the stage, I needed management
In a mansion that I could squeeze another phantom in
Negative people just seem to fail first
I said I´m a genius, put in the legwork
You step to my niggas, suggest you stay alert
No, I´ve never been lenient, nor a man of mercy
I stick my dick in her tell her my net worth
Then we stare at each other and see who catch first

A pretty chick, she resembles Stacy Dash
If it was her, she had to kiss my feet and lick my ass
Pussy nigga want war, til´ it´s "bonjour"
Those hitters sitting a bomb outside your mom door
Got your people alarmed cause we the armed force
Easy as leaking a song before I go on tour

Uh
Gang violence ongoing, let´s fight our own wars
Chicago been out of hand, the city lost its soul
Funeral every weekend or either you cremated
Homie´s son, he been murdered, he didn´t seem faded
Holding guns on the gram, out of my league baby
Real killers and hitters would rather live nameless

I got a homie I know with a twenty body count
Maybe once or twice a month he leave the house
Older brother, type to get a curly perm
Pappy Mason type respect for holding thirty birds
Never was a gangster, I just wanted in
No longer could I deny that I wanted a Benz
Booby gave me blessings and a root for me to win
I showed him my ambition in two different fields
Also, said I was a rapper, Booby here it is
Real talk my nigga, here it is