INTRO

Check me out, look, It goes love, hate, pleasure and pain, Four albums in the can and I'm still in the game. What up. And last album, they don't like me to tell this, Debuted at number one and sold more records than Elvis. Shut up. That's what they tellin' me, switch up your melody, Through with misdemeanors, they tryin' to give rappers felonies So they can lock us up one at a time, But true writers stay free in every one of our lines. And if you not feelin' I'm the cream of the crop, I'll knock rappers off your list 'til I get to the top. Still you're lookin' at a man that's financially stable, Only nigga gettin' checks cut from four different labels. That Pillsbury dough, women poke my gut, Still I walk around the streets like I'm broke as fuck. So if you see me in your town and I appear to be moody, That's 'cause I'm thinkin' about plans that's bigger than Serena booty. Me and Chaka still starvin' and lookin' for meals, And heads up, Ludacris is almost out of his deal. I'm over 10 million sold, every album is crack, And for now I'm 'bout to carry Def Jam on my back. Mad rappers I hear you talkin' way down at the bottom, Though I make big money, still handle small problems. The ramblin' at the mouth, I don't play that shit, I'm the best and I ain't really gotta say that shit.