Trapped inside of a mirror lookin at me in reality,
It's quite a tragedy,
I say it candidly, but actually
I'm somewhat depressed by the fact that I ain't impressive,
The fact that these rappers wack,
And they sending the youth the message,
That all they do is for the fame and fashion,
Not for the passion,
But these line aren't meant to criticize their actions,
If only to emphasize my own,
Citizen of me city, and my mind my home,
I can't say it enough,
They can't spray it enough,
Cause Battlefield ain't just a game,
They ain't just playing it tough,
But I grew up, determined not to get involved,
They watchin rocks cook,
I'm just watchin Rockmon digivolve,
Been fatter than Biggie Smalls,
Skinny now, but still got my weight up,
Lyrically, now I'm just tryna gain pounds that's paid up,
Cause I ain't never sold white, shouts out to K-Dot,
The thought gets me green,
Though it might've got em some green,
Gang Green on my screen so I'm jettin',
Third place got second place relative to who got second,
But in the first place, thank God that I got first place,
Every Thanksgiving, you know I got first, second, third plates,
The whole fam is assembled, you lucky if you a member,
Uncle lifted me up to the ceiling, do you remember?
That's when we was high on life,
But now my mom blood pressure high, and we just high on strife,
The bills high this month, goddamnit Con Edison,
Got a nigga visualizing the end of him,
Capitalize your capital interests,
Seems like capitalism, was made for the hood,
Slap a logo onto a hood, who cares what's under the hood,
Long as a brand name's attached to it,
Don't know what the sport is,
Just know that a grand name's attached to it,
Ralphie from the block like J-Lo,
But got factories out there,
In the desert, where they rip up the pavement with pavelows,
Stay low, try not to stand out, and you might survive,
I never follow my own advice if you surmised,
What a surprise, my fly guys with the bright eyes,
Envisioned a future where once we come on, the mic dies,
Like Mike Ty-son, I think my right hand the right gun,
Cause that's the hand witch which I type them, or hold the pen,
Hold your breath and count to ten,
We ain't drownin in the money?
Oh well, just dive down again,
Let these one hit wonders buzz die down again,
Cause my set like, numbers, period,
Not real or imaginary, set you free like Syrians,
Or was it Persians, it can't be hurtin',
To give tracks 1 through 3, and 5 through 11, listens,
It'll take mil anos, just like Alyssa,
To attain the height that I've reached, like Super Saiyan,
I'm just sayin, and you just hatin,
But I absorb your assaults just like Kevin Bacon,
And then I'll X this man out, with the gray jeans,
Probably born with a stray gene,
Matter fact I bumped into one of my ex-niggas,
He said I see you doin ya thang, you rap better than most,
But what happened bro? Ya fingers broke, cause you went ghost,
(And I said yeah mah nigga how you think I'm sposed to get the muhfuckin Phantom 
 if I stay fuckin with ya'll?)


edsupremeOG