J.J.E.

The 25, 8 square root villain Barefoot chillin' in a drop top ride No socks, no ceilings Sky be my limit, with a footnote in it Reading "if we make it past, I can rest one minute" I'm my own worst critic, even I can understand That not a single little shit can mimic, you should admit it (Yah!) Got no gimmicks off the index, you an echo Estoy fresco, know my style retro, got that Jean jacket elegance Umbrella could be denim as well, I gel well with the elements Young rebels in the game like veterans I show up like it's always been my home, puff, gone with no evidence Stay high, lie low like the Netherlands Never land if it ain't Neverland, hold it there, hello? Eyo, what's up? If your schedule ain't too tight Party goin' down, my place, tonight, we got it all Juice, jay, et cetera Memories of last weekend, lotta wild shit on my retina Tempted for a moment then I'm tapped on the shoulder By that melody never created last hangover (Sober) Call you back, homie, I'll be at the next Hang up, check my missed calls list by reflex I think she mad at my lack of responding to her Guess sometimes it's lyric before text, Q The studio over sex, a clean mix over drinks A final touch over resting Distracted by the zeitgist, times are testing But I draw outside the lines 'til I see a clear sign of progressing Put it all on the line, I'll sacrifice it for a shot At everything that I want, everything that I got Exception exactly one Never myself You'll never see a price on my soul, it's not on the shelf I'll say it just as loud as I need, never forget A selling of the seller is a deal to regret Some are willing to limit their own heads just to fit the crowns And some go in a higher gear than the box allows Bitch, I'm the judge, jury and executioner Writer, rapper, producer This one goes out to the equipment abusers I spit into a battered 57, filter on sale Sail' on the mic Tyson motherfuckers to the guard rail, that's a Hard tale for a soft ass kid I contain more than I could ever fit on the lid Let the grind toughen your skin, but never seep in So that the mind loses its color, keep using your spin To propel See, you could win a race an empty shell Chop the doors off, jettison the seat with the smell It's all well when the crowd's out praising the victor And that includes you too, 'cause now you're out of the picture You thought it was you, the baller on the charts, in the news You used to be him, used to walk inside his hype-ass shoes Always center of attention, he's the king of the hill You played him but they never noticed when the actor was killed The author cashin' the bill, he's the executive producer The label owner, the A&R in charge of your future All of the fuckers making cheese off your shit Convinced you that there was no reason to quit Until you're nothing but a Theseus ship They ripped the ugly parts out, turned the rest to a character Edges all smoothed over and pushed inside of a canister You were in on it, but now you've grown And what you thought you had control of got a mind of its own Whether you wanna wield weapons or you're kind to the bone Be next to Kendrick and Staples, or flexin' on 'em like Malone It's your own choice, nobody can point you to your zone But make sure that it's your own ass mounting the throne, watch it The profit slippin' through your fingers if you never lock it Chain it to your brain, not in anybody's pocket Running outta time but that boy on to something, next shit Juvenile jumpman, exit