Road Maps

See we don’t politic with imbeciles we congregate with criminals and keep some killer hoes and keep the toaster by my genitals for when the shit goes down act like you know Motown See Frizzo done clicked up with Sleepy Eyed Jones now. This Hustle mania Mack this ain’t no radio rap y’all saying life’s a game but y’all ain’t playing shit, Jack. We’ll hit you with the Full Court press make y’all say now how’d they do that? Truth is we just got off our ass and said the world is our trap. So now you gotta come to us if you want some we young guns, make that fame easy to attain for these lame sons, make that brain hang like a gold chain if the cake comes late we paid in full like Rakim once this thang’s done. Surroundings that bound me these bloodhounds surround me I piece up the alleys and tag up the foundrys the drones fly at 36,000 feet while I put the pen to this pad act bad and put down the beat. I’ve been a fan of evil stab you with infected needles, snort a kilo of some bath salts then feed this urge to eat you. Fuck your area code record in stereo mode Detroit is ever so cold we’ll sever anyone’s throat don’t need a reason to flizzex and rizzep on these nuts I’ll rub out on Kleenex and toss it at weak sluts the reflex to nut up done re upped so read up my criminal record second to none what. Turn the fucking page cause today is my day on the freeway flipping bricks getting grip the fly way might reside in the sticks when I’m retired one day but right now I’m in the city riding high and sideways.
Can anybody hear me the clock it keeps on ticking I'll hop on top a beat and when it drops I keep on living yo you can't kill me won't stop till Armageddon I'm a be clocking knots while this rock keeps spinning. I've been spittin' since Nas dropped it was Written and I've been getting dollars since before these kids was living. Todd Shaw taught me how to get in where I fit in so I hustle like I’m broke while they floss like they’re winning. Make these hoes pay like Jose Canseco it’s Frizzo from the era of crack homeboy just say no living homicidal let the needle hit the vinyl let Aretha hit the high notes while I reinvent the style. Caught the Amtrak up in Pontiac, copped a sack in Chicago for a player's price then I brought it back. You could never tell me that this G shit is played out some people went the other way I stayed right here so what now?
There’s no road maps to life handed out to bastard sons but in my past life I must’ve been the fastest gun resurrected to raise hell after hell has been risen still I rhyme and I spit to find my reason for living. I’m the block villain unconscious not felling pop vics drop knocks and clock billions until this all ends and we all end up mummified 3,000 years later they won’t wonder which one was I through flight, the space-age and cold war, riots and racism hidden on page 4 and we frown on plagiarism MC court is in session 24/7 who’s man enough for war sucka?