Lookin' at popular colored faces
Observing what my brothers
faces in all races
Lost in generations before hatred
See with your eyes dilated
for the sake of the Gs
But keep it sacred G, fuck a rat race,
we take the cheese
Jack cheddar from the make believe
Break the trees on they eighth CD
Rocking the red and black
lumberjack faithfully
I'm a Brooklyn nigga,
basically I grind with the grimiest
Learn how to eat in the jungle
full of hyenas
And vultures,
don't worry what a verse will cost ya
From the young scorcher,
just remember who taught ya
I'm gonna spark it off unorthodox
Won't sign to no major if no wager
Less than a 3 million offer off the top
I'll be in a box with my coughin' drops
Why settle for a office spot?
Niggas don't always make
it off the block
Unless they extort rocks
or support the cops
They still snitchin' let me guess,
that's your mannequin?
Leave 'em shook while you're standing
and quit the shenanigans
Have you panicking,
induce damages 'til you're vanishing
Words are told properly,
resort top sea examinin'
This is for my real hip hop fans and 'em
I dispose for 'em, leave fake
MC's in the post mortem
Cause money ain't a thing
if I got it I won't spend
All I got is my Pros,
I don't need no friends
Feel like this glory road
is coming to an end
The only soul that won't sin
No he won't give in
Yo this world is bone chillin'
Make meals in hell's kitchen
with these dishes
Properly delivered drop trees
in my swisher
And bring that back to my property wit ya
It ain't easy being this royal
When you got this much going for you
It ain't hard to be disloyal
Comin' straight from the soil
with lines that never coil
Start to think pretty off new
career with this spoil
The kid is that sick
so expect more coffins
I'm the chosen one so you
can expect more offerings
I be sonning niggas so
expect less orphans
Best rapper alive hear that
line used less often
Word to God I'm the best offering
BMX like Hoffman,
BMF like Ross man
Young boss, man,
got Jimmy Fallon endorsements
From porches,
to Porsches, getting portions of fortune
They said next up so I stepped up
Fly like I dressed up
Bitches try to hang like left nuts
Like orangutans in the west of
Of the motherland,
but I've got the swank of no other man
Brother man
They can't understand
Pro Era boys pop rubber
band
Cause money ain't a thing
if I got it I won't spend
All I got is my Pros,
I don't need no friends
Feel like this glory road
is coming to an end
The only soul that won't sin
No he won't give in
Yo this world is bone chillin'
Make meals in hell's kitchen
with these dishes
Properly delivered drop trees
in my swisher
And bring that back to my
property wit ya
Joey Bada$$ 
