Freestyle

Needles in my pock-et.
I got the powder in my lock-et.
Shoot my pistol in the air,
Nasa style, as fast as a rock-et.
A flow in my rhymes,
electric runs in every line,
call my flow a plug sock-et.
My name on every page,
my home is the stage.
My name on the USA dock-et.

To fast for the feds, to cocky for the cops,
line every African, we all own those rocks.
From the shirt to the dirt, to the fuckin' Parada tops.
I love my Mother, don't ever mention my pops.
He the one that introduced me to welfare,
crime and the glocks.
Would hide his dirty cash in my fuckin' socks,
the weed in the dish pots.
His name was on every hit list,
known to all those hot spots.

Nowerdays, I don't care about being paid.
Just as long as I stay away, from that blood grave.
Long as I attend my daughters every birthday,
get to every rehearsal fast like a sunray.
Missing out on the record deal, the worst way.
Fuck money,
fuck slags and bitches.
Keep my home and my riches.
Just ensure I stay away from stitches.