Lyrics:
Man your feet
I got it goin' on like miami got heat
I pay to keep 8 days a week
My names on your lips keep hatin' on me
Cause I got the future
Picture me preforming in an orpheum
A poor, living in the orphanage, damn
What my future hold? only god knows
Thats why im staying prayed up,
became anxious for our
Livelihoods, the future of our families
And children, our personal health
And the aging
Process instead of a simple, intense fear
in the back
So open up the track ‘cause your face is a mask
And the shape it will take is defined by how you act
Make it fast, because a thought
future looks muddy
Cause you just can't beat my buddy
Word, break it down break it down Ready
We've won so many battles
People think it's a trick
That
favorite track on the album
Really
Yeah
I mean
I might just love Ray's voice
Yeah
I mean, it's nice
Yeah
And then
I have no idea what he's saying
Yeah
I
to that
That's right
We'll get to that
Eight years ago, right?
Yes, and I remember it had two fire beats
One of them is Ebonics
That we used just now
bickering, bickering
Before the ink dries everything I'm figuring
Even confidence is now flickering, flickering
Hmmm
Been up late since 10-8
Factory reset no
immaculate beat
Blast with the heat, impact with this accuracy
Last one to sleep, just imagine what happened to me
Factory made, back to the graves and they
Money multiply its coming by threes
She got all that weave
Still not on track
Eight oh eight on the beat
Yo piffy bring it back
I run the plays QB
move
shoot ya
And change ya name to DJ I-Got-Beat-By-The-X-Ecutioners
"Yea, yea, y'all know the name" "X-Ecutioners"
"Stabbin' the track with both hands..
First time I walked in I knew this was no ordinary lay-in
Shopped by my bro, econ prof's rollin' in the dough
In center of Stockbridge
Where
right
It will be all right
Trust in your future, son
The factories are closing down
We gotta make the parade
Sip from the bowl where punches drown
You
a factory scrap heap
Don't at me
Got lines that will cut and blind ya like them flat peaks
Spit with the weight of the Shelby's when I shell beats
Nasty
Truth
(I got Hitman on the beat)
Ayy, ayy, I ain't even gotta say nothing
I'm from that Plaq, I go by P Yungin
You know what it is
Bitch nigga try
you will never grind
I know the priors they running by us when we do crime
I know that section eight wanna discontinue my Moms
When they heard that Ohio
which are booming
With too many drumbeats and Snoop shit
Remain ruthless 'til we're toothless without a doubt
Last eight beats of this track should be
style, not heard by the usual
You bite you get damaged, so my brothers stay mutual
While I'm makin and takin, emcees shakin and flakin
Pre-heat my oven
sucker, cause you was told
Your spot in the box in eighty-eight was sold
So quit the singin come swingin cause of the beat that I'm bringin
Tryin to wax
they still wanna talk
Like my shits not pop
And I treat this beat like a canvas
Make a fat track, Make you rock like granite
All ya thoughts just vanish
This shit was really 20 years up in the making
God made me stronger
By testing my patience
Cuz I really thought that I should've been signed
When I
The factories still churning out
Of that there's not a single doubt
There's more snide shit from their flea pits
They couldn't give a fucking shit.
Serge on the beat
The beat be the closest to me
Right next to my fam nd my bethren
Im passin the sixth and im rollin a Seventh
My mind formin bangers
wanna go back to your city beat
By a little teen, just a kid from the bay
West side what I'm repping today
Yes I hit the level of best five in the state
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