Yeah, I’m goin’ back in..
I feel like I’m all by myself, the girl doesn’t even want me
Niggas who have trouble sleeping are sleeping on me
Shit, you got a shadow; I got the reaper on me
You see, this is a battle and I shall defeat opponents
I am one with the concrete, I bleed cement
And I sticks to my money like thee lint
I’m in them Eastwoods, call me Clint
Fresh from the edge, straight to the deep end
I’m in the zone like I am about to sneak in
And I still got in the door, with the key bent
I smoke good, got me looking like leeching
Omega chronic coming back like leasing
You niggas don’t want beef like a vegan
Hard body, you niggas are lighter than sea rims
N-J in front of thee brim
Chris baby the crème of thee crème
What makes me, me?
Because I gave it to her easily?
Or the way I bang make me a G?
What makes you, you?
Is it because you stay true to your crew?
Or is it because you do what you do?
What makes me the king?
Is it the way I’m holding it down?
Or is it just coz I’m claiming the crown?
Sweat on my style, man makes the money, money never makes the man,
I’m just trying to help you understand
What makes me, me
If I would depend on my love, will I be able to survive?
Or what I would depend on become a lie?
If my homie had my back, will I ever get shot down?
Or would I go down along with the gun sound?
What makes me, me
My path is not walked
My craft is hot talked
I can school your whole class with one thought
Don’t act like my math is not taught
What I spit is fact, of course
Fighting for my style? Your battles are not fought
Will her next be better when I pass that torch?
But I will fight for her, never last in any sort
Call me Dynasty, I’m made to pass in any sport
50 yard pass down in the perimeter
Give me any spot, I’m the number one deliverer
I’m a love distributor
Life’s a bitch, but I’m learning how to live with her
I feel like I’m all by myself, the girl doesn’t even want me
Niggas who have trouble sleeping are sleeping on me
Shit, you got a shadow; I got the reaper on me
You see, this is a battle and I shall defeat opponents
I am one with the concrete, I bleed cement
And I sticks to my money like thee lint
I’m in them Eastwoods, call me Clint
Fresh from the edge, straight to the deep end
I’m in the zone like I am about to sneak in
And I still got in the door, with the key bent
I smoke good, got me looking like leeching
Omega chronic coming back like leasing
You niggas don’t want beef like a vegan
Hard body, you niggas are lighter than sea rims
N-J in front of thee brim
Chris baby the crème of thee crème
What makes me, me?
Because I gave it to her easily?
Or the way I bang make me a G?
What makes you, you?
Is it because you stay true to your crew?
Or is it because you do what you do?
What makes me the king?
Is it the way I’m holding it down?
Or is it just coz I’m claiming the crown?
Sweat on my style, man makes the money, money never makes the man,
I’m just trying to help you understand
What makes me, me
If I would depend on my love, will I be able to survive?
Or what I would depend on become a lie?
If my homie had my back, will I ever get shot down?
Or would I go down along with the gun sound?
What makes me, me
My path is not walked
My craft is hot talked
I can school your whole class with one thought
Don’t act like my math is not taught
What I spit is fact, of course
Fighting for my style? Your battles are not fought
Will her next be better when I pass that torch?
But I will fight for her, never last in any sort
Call me Dynasty, I’m made to pass in any sport
50 yard pass down in the perimeter
Give me any spot, I’m the number one deliverer
I’m a love distributor
Life’s a bitch, but I’m learning how to live with her
