rap grows on us and we soon realize we have an ambition-to-spit...
real emcees vanish and dissaper quicker then a bad magician-trick...
never see the pens-droppin we strive to become master-emcees...
hearing our ill lyrics we get heads-nodding like parkinson disease...
our passion gets the better of us we do things-we-shouldn't-dream-of...
but thats raging passion is what gets us wins-we-couldn't-belive-of...
hiphop was shining with a shade-of-light back when rap-was-born...
spitting raps till late-at-night and still flowing at the crack-of-dawn...
emcees start-out-whack but we get better and find a sign-of-hope...
we place our pens about-in-smack to prove what we right-is-dope...
when know one gave a shit-for-me i would sit and repentance-me-life...
but i turned that into words.. and spit-the-truth in every sentence-i -write...
once when elevation kicks in you'll never be spitting-quite-the-same...
when it does, you'll be thinking of raps every minute-of-night-and-day...
no need for fortune and money any real emcee would cut fame-in-two..
you used to copy real emcees, but the new genration wont do the same-as-you...
upping for thatguyyouhate.
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whats it takes to be a real emcee


..Fuck that gay shit you say on a beat..
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