yo, I'm used to cold to the right, hot to the left

turn 'em on let the warm water run down my chest

and wash away the stress

I swore to my momma she'd die a happy woman on my very last breath

I'm lookin back, reminiscin how many have left us

O.G.'s who used to squeeze with the best touch

holdin chrome and hold they own, its messed up

now a nigga livin through his ancestors

saukrates, 23, turnin like 45 in the year

cravin for the days when I'm out in the clear

even though I'm livin

I might sacrafice my life but I won't give in

until those spokes is spinnin

and my homies chillin

and me dealin with no less than half a million

in a crib on some acres and had the children

livin the life they deserve in this fake realism

I get you with the wisdom

you ain't with it then kiss em...the nuts

if you dissin watch me from a distance

I'ma hit you with the words that'll make your soul vibrate

the things that we contemplate..when we comin' up

I'ma hit you with the words that'll make your soul vibrate

the things that we contemplate..when we comin' up



if you could imagine a day that's black forever

waiting for the sun to come up

as hard as you try its a lie you can't change the weather

maybe I should stop giving a fuck

(plus) you've been telling me that life goes on

but as this rap star trek prolongs

guess I'm wonderin what else could go wrong

(all you can do is sing your song)

(pick them pockets nigga)



make a lifetime journies into me

these endless questions, they plague my dome piece

like, what I'ma do with all the groupies I might meet

will I turn the other cheek, or do I turn the other cheek?

please, freak, you gettin touched by this, west indian connection

let me rub on your tits, and get in it for a minute to win it

let you fall in love with it...then I'm out

cuz I got work to finish

the music is my business

do you love me? i'd bust out, to maximimize my biggness

now ladies if you listenin I'ma make you my witness

I got no love for bitches, they be out with the quickness

groupie parade plague, get your catagorized sickness

who sayin that brother socks got it locked from L.A. to Brixton

I'm broke, but niggaz'd kill for my position

I rap to that vince carter at skydome

if you see me on the beat, E.T. phone home!

and tell yo momma the drama

your old high school friend's on the tube, representin' Toronto

and doin it right, pursuin his life

seems to take flight when he carresses the mic

sendin this one out to cats with unsigned hype

just do it for you, keep this rap shit tight



if you could imagine a day that's black forever

waiting for the sun to come up

as hard as you try its a lie you can't change the weather

maybe I should stop giving a fuck

(plus) you've been telling me that life goes on

but as this rap star trek prolongs

guess I'm wonderin what else could go wrong

(all you can do is sing your song)

(pick them pockets nigga)