( Intro )

( Bronzson )

Sign of the times...
From Bill Cosby to Bill Gates
Let's get cake....

( Verse One )

( Bronzson )

Results that provoke, insult ya grandma
Tell her, pardon my manners
The way I molest it
Never seen on any camera
Lifestyle of the bastard, blast graphic, Hugh Hefner
Surrounded by the type of women who jus' blow ya rep' up
Pull ya dress, or ya skirt upper, the proverbial
Rap inserter, Nat Turner, the net worker
The ship's colonel, top earner, wit' two journals
Stories "Devil's Advocate" and "Dante's Inferno"
The imperial, nothin' general, algorithm metaphysical
Deal it digital, it's pivotal to bomb shit, ya best work
Put away, it's nonsense, I know
You was only tryin' to show confidence
Now back to the drawing board, but you feelin' sort of raw
Next time sport, bring an Uzi and a sharper sword
We don't suit up for awards, we're prepared for war
Your shooters run for shelter, cover up like Ollie North

( Chorus )

( Verse Two )

( Bronzson )

Coming through your speaker slowly homie, only real g's know me
The plan of attack, 'tween me and my target, you 'n the middle of it
Like Monie, trapped in a web with Ayatolley, no time
To try to kill the vibe with ya sob story, we all got one
And yeah, we all about that money
I'm from the same place where ain't a damn thing funny
I'm aiming out the barrel, but the crabs they love me
They see up at the top and rush to put one's above me
My team be like, Bronzson stop actin' paranoid
You know you birth a verse without the umbilical cord
You probably had player potential since you were four
Might can compare you to, but really, never seen it before
Catalogue without the condom on, give it to you raw, pause
Bear witness, the foundation like the Taj Mahal
Monarch kings at a high level like LeBron
That Ramadan, saw how to brand putting Nike's on

( Break )

( Chorus )

( Verse Three )

( THIRD )

(Yo)
You catch me on the grind, then it's money for my time, a
You won't go to jail, you got the money for the fine
Put some money on the line, and watch the real come out
Niggas dying everyday to pay the bills in their house
I spit the truth like 'Tre, in the booth though, I slay like Kay
Kid I don't play, I'm 'bout the green like day, a basket case
For the paper, when I come around, I address the haters
Blow off steam 'nd watch 'em catch the vapors
I'm still dummin' wit' my bro's, cummin' in these hoes
Dumpin' on my foes, 'til I see their casket close
Be a wanted man for a hundred grand
I be eatin' on the run before I take the stand
I enterprise and capitalize wit' guys that live it
A lot of niggas just spit it, but for real, I did it
I go from a section of freaks, to executive suites
Collectin' checks by the week, this is sex on a beach
(Bitch)

( Chorus )

( Outro )