Lyrics

You know it makes me sick how I can drop a kick
Slap down a wicky wick and I got a hit
Yeah me and music could be cheese and chalk
But I can sell records if I walk the walk
You know it makes me sick when I?m makin beats
I know they ain?t gonna take if I ain?t from the streets
Ain?t a beat still a beat if I ain?t packin heat
Or need a fifty man crew just to feel complete
You know it makes me wanna throw up they really gotta grow up
They?re acting like kids every joint they show up
Say they don?t give a *@#% but just wanna impress
How they pose in their clothes with their hoes underdressed
I guess they must have missed the feminist movement
I thought treating women like people was a damn improvement
Can't praise the lord when you win an award
Then swing around and sing about the bitches you scored
Now I ain?t political but it?s a little hypocritical
So easy to ridicule it?s getting so pitiful
You can?t say peace then promote segregation
Discrimination and adulteration
Now I?m making up words but you gotta understand
I know it?s absurd but it?s in demand
I?m ashamed to sound the same but I ain?t in the game
If I write the right letters when I spell my name

You know it makes me sick how I can drop a kick
Slap down a wicky wick and I got a hit
Yeah me and music could be cheese and chalk
But I can sell records if I walk the walk
Yeah I can sell records with the #%@* I talk

Yo it makes me queasy how it?s just so easy
But it?s not hip-hop if I don?t graffiti
Though I make you dance I got no chance at all
If I never sprayed something a subway wall
Or if I?m compelled to let my clothes fit me well
What the hell I?m gonna do with an XXL
Does it make my tracks whack like they lack something phat
That?s phat with a ?P? now what?s up with that
When every word I?ve heard in all the songs they play
Begin with an ?F? and end in ?UCK?
Yo you see they got nothing smart to say
Encouraging the ways of bad yesterdays
Cos I?m the king of composing and I can sing
But it don?t mean a thing if I ain?t bling bling
It took a day from scratch to hatch this track
And it?s a billion times better than that million-dollar crap


Why I'm Not a Rappa
You know it makes me sick how I can drop a kick
Slap down a wicky wick and I got a hit
Yeah me and music could be cheese and chalk
But I can sell records if I walk the walk
Yeah I can sell records with the @#*% I talk

They come in their hordes
Playing the same three chords
Winning grammy awards
For the same three chords

Yo know it gives me the malady how you don?t need a melody
You just seem to need the themes that keep on offending me
In order to succeed do I need to smoke weed, drink,
Or make my nose bleed with the life that I lead
I don?t drive a fancy car I just play guitar
I?ll never wanna be no rap superstar
I?m just singing for the kids who can?t shut their eyelids
Cos they?re glued to the screen watching obscene vids
Cos I prefer to live and get what I give
Don?t need to be trippin to be creative
What happened to entertainment children playing on the pavement
When G?s came in is the day they went
It?s malevolence not brilliance I?m hearing on the radio
MTV?s playing the same lame video
It?s 6-0-0 just to look ghetto
I?m not trying to be a prick it just makes me sick

You know it makes me sick how I can drop a kick
Slap down a wicky wick and I got a hit
Yeah me and music could be cheese and chalk
But I can sell records if I walk the walk
Yeah I can sell records with the @#*% I talk