Souljah Soul

[Duke]

Here's a story about a struggling emcee with a stomach that was empty/
No cassettes, wax, or CD, nobody looking friendly/
Who prayed on his knees for some overnight celebrity/
Was willing to do anything from biting rhymes to committing felonies

But who heard his imprecations, through the mist,the one called Satan/
Said "I'll make you rich as a Sultan from Arabia, but no deliberating/
"Sign the dotted line in a book bound in the skin of virgin maidens/
"Now you're in the big time like Kanye, prepare for graduation"

That's when our emcee took off and skyrocketed the charts of hip-hop/
Surrounded by Hollywood Hills and girls with silicone tits that's soft/
A half a mil advance, playing golf, glossing covers of "The Source"
But in the throes of ecstasy our Souljah Boy forgot the cost/

Now just remember when the mansions and the yachts turn to vapor/
your circle's filled with haters and the devil's come to claim his/
You watch a vortex form before you, scream but you can't escape this/
Your soul consigned to space with other commercial imitators