Lyrics
Gimme that beat, fool, it's a full-time jack move
Don't worry, 'Schino, I'll give it back soon
Just having a little fun
Wassup, my nigga?
Ah-ooh
S. Dot, the Collection
Black Album coming soon
Just gon' vent a little bit
Have a little fun with it
Yes, yes
Ain't nobody dumpin' on Hov, you ain't in sanitation
Or sanitarium, what are you, crazy? Jay-Z'll bury 'em
I'll get you drug out the club, they'll have to carry 'em
Go ahead, bug out, I'll Raid, nigga, scurry
Worry, I'm, not, the Mike Jordan of the mic recording
It's Hovi, baby, you Kobe, maybe; Tracy McGrady
Matter-fact, you a Harold Miner
J.R. Rider, washed up on marijuana
Even worse, you a Pervis Ellis
You worthless, fella; you ain't no athlete, you Shawn Bradley
I ain't talkin' to nobody in particular
My flow's just vehicular homicide when I'm kickin' up DUST!
Anybody in my path is a car crash waiting to happen
Nigga, WHAT!
I got my foot on the throat on the pulse of this rap game
And I ain't letting up, YUP!
Who's the nicest? Life or lifeless on these mic devices
And I don't write this, I just mic this, I will it to happen
One-take Hov, I'm real at this rapping
My new name is Just the Facts
While the rest of y'all just adjust the facts
Put words together, just to match
I say what I feel, y'all adjust to that
I do the opposite of y'all so I just attract
The realer audience usually unjustly Black
Know my flow and the shit they go through just match
Like the sound of my voice and a choice Just track
I just tackle the subject, the flak from the public is nothing
I know real niggas happen to love it
If you don't like it, then look in the mirror
Most likely you ain't live it so you don't get it
You ain't did it, so you can't vision, the picture I'm painting
Ain't vivid, the language I'm spitting is so foreign to ya
See what starving'll do to ya
Growin' up hard in a little apartment'll do to ya
Hah, I'm just talkin' to ya
I'm just talkin' through ya
