As soon as hip hop came out
it was a music that
I could grasp and identify with the millennium

All round and round
From the first to the last
it is in the… passionate
Clear *****t! All I need is one Mic
The hip pop is dying out
my rap poem
From the first to the last
it is in the… passionate
Clear *****t! All my nigger want my…
The hip pop is dying out
my rap poem
There’s a certain mystique
when I speak that you notice
Cause it’s sort of unique
cause you know it’s me,
My poetry is deep and
I’m still mad at the way
I flow his beat!
I can't stand still
it’s like trying smoke crap and go to sleep,
I’m strapped it’s known any minute I could snap,
I'm the equivalent of what would happen
if Bush rapped
I bully these rappers so bad lyrically
It ain't even funny, I ain't even hungry
it ain't even money
You can't pay me enough for you to play me
It's ****amanie you just ain't zany
enough to rock with Shady
My noodle is ****-a-doodle, my clock's coo-coo
I got screws loose, yea the whole kitten caboodle
I'm just brutal
It's no rumor
I'm numero uno, assume it
There's no more humor in it, you know
I'm rolling with a swollen bowling ball in my bag
You need a fag and tear a near hole in my ass!

From the first to the last
it is in the… passionate
Clear *****t! All my nigger want my…
The hip pop is dying out
my rap poem

From the first to the last
it is in the… passionate
Clear *****t! All my nigger want my…
The hip pop is dying out
my rap poem
Young Hov got the game in a frenzy
Twenty million sold all independently,
So when you mention me
Make sure you got together your 'semblies
Like, "He's the games J.F.Kennedy"
I started out, I ain't have no chimney
My ma was Santa Claus, well
at least she pretended to be
'Til one night, well
that's if memory serves me correct
I caught her under the Chris****as tree.
Young Hov ain't have no pops
Thank God, man, I had the block
Ya'll hear me though
You young *****s got the game all wrong
This is my life, man, this ain't no song!
You ain't livin' your rhymes out
you live at your mom's house
In that tight-ass room, pullin' the cars out
And the mirror pointin' at your reflection
killing yourself
You American Pie
stop feeling yourself!

From the first to the last
it is in the… passionate
Clear *****t! All my nigger want my…
The hip pop is dying out
my rap poem
From the first to the last
it is in the… passionate
Clear *****t! All my nigger want my…
The hip pop is dying out
my rap poem
I woke up early on my born day
I'm twenty years of blessing
The essence of adolescent leaves
my body now I'm fresh in
My physical frame is celebrated cause I made it
One quarter through life some
God-ly like thing created
Got rhymes 365 days annual plus some
Load up the mic and bust one
cuss while I puffs from
My skull cause it's pain in my brain
vein money maintain
Don't go against the grain simple and plain!
When I was young at this I used to do my thing hard
Robbin’ foreigners take they wallets
they jewels and rip they green cards
Dipped to the projects fla*****n’
my quick cash
And got my first piece of ass smokin’
blunts with hash
Now it's all about cash in abundance
*****z I used to run with
Is rich or doin years in the hundreds
I switched my motto
instead of sayin ***** tomorrow
That buck that bought a bottle
could've struck the lotto
Once I stood on the block
loose cracks produce stacks
I cooked up and cut small
pieces to get my loot back
Time is Illmatic keep static like wool fabric
Pack a four-matic
that crack your whole cabbage
From the first to the last
it is in the… passionate
Clear *****t! All my nigger want my…
The hip pop is dying out
my rap poem
From the first to the last
it is in the… passionate
Clear *****t! All my nigger want my…
The hip pop is dying out
my rap poem