Back To Basics Hip Hop’s Alarm Clock

[Verse 1]

Somebody asked me what exactly Ima do for black music
I told em Ima chop it up, loop it and rap to it
I'm a conscious slash average black human
But see I'm from the street, so you know i gotta keep that ass movin
I passed numerous tests without using a tech
A crack movie, a school of hard knocks grad student that you should respect
Not cause of my crucial connects, but cause I rap fluently
Ask any dude in the west
I put in work, like cats payin' dudes with a check
Actin cool, but your just foolin' your set
I'm a vet like Pat Ewing, and I blaze more Knicks than Reggie Miller
You kids doing the same old shit and never differ
But I beg to differ, fuck a pardon
I'm charging the industry like a sergeant for pimpin' these artists
Leave the talking to the grown-ups, regardless if your so what
You sold out, trying to hold clout and hold bucks in the same hand

[Verse 2]
When I was young I once grew up like Ice Cube, and blew up like right [?]
Times changed and so did the west
Now I'm older now, I found me a nice crew, some tracks I could write to
My mind grew and so did my set
Now it's time to respect, them West Coast great vets
Pouring blood, sweating tears, plus the years they invest
Ya'll showing disrespect like you ain't heard us
My story grounds in Cali, bound and I ain't been served once
Kickup my feet ann burn blunts, bumping Snoop in the coupe
Reminiscing of the time when I was stuck in my youth
Moving house to house, in and out of cities, pretty kid and I was witty city slicking, steal some Diddy shit
I miss when we used to play Wu-Tang, in the whoop bang capital
Where niggas grow up with that shooting range attitude
Gang banging and doing things that they ain't have to do
But I was just a little man, looking out my window pane
Chilling with the rapping crews, after school getting brain
Spitting flames
Attackin fools
Actin cool
Tagging on the bus
Talking bout I never do it for the bucks, but fuck
That all changed once my first check came you know

[Verse 3]

Yo, record labels used to ask me
Ey yo how we supposed to market an artist that raps conscious and street comin' from Cali
I told them rap music used to speak for itself
Just put it out, niggas feel the heat comin' off the shelf without sellin out
This is for my niggas out spitting, skipping house to house
Living on they best friend's couch
We out busting just to build up some clout
But the rap game is stuck in a drought
Cause these rappers stopped rapping, they just running they mouth
Bout shit they don't have, while the shit in my pad is hot as the sun in the south
I'm giving all that I have, for a little recognition
For the times I spent scribbling my thoughts across pages
For the latest, greatest, those who never made it
And every guy that got me on they iTunes playlist
For the Bridgetown playas
The fly chicks that played us
Divine forces wake up showing Friday night flavas
This is for y'all