Tired Video (MV)

Niggas is sayin' that rappin' is dead
Guess that I'm not on the back of they heads
They would've loved me in corporate America
I went and did rappin' instead
Shit it'd be nice to be stackin' my bread
A good-paying job, kick up the legs
Live for the weekend, get my rest
I guess I did both, no presh
I'm back on the strip, I'm back in the ends
I'm back on the Jackie with all of my friends
Back up your drive, shit outta hand
Could go any day, don't try to pretend
Rap too militant, too belligerent
Who's this immigrant son with the penmanship?
Get up on the mic and take your membership for your benefit
At the end of it, no new friends, but still no nemesis
Jacques spread love and they all gon' remember it
Come on, come on, come on, come on
Come on, come on
They ask what I need
Is it that bread or the 80 degrees?
Weather where light peeks through the trees?
Nah it's the booth, this shit a breeze
They thought that I quit and they felt to they knees
"He wear a suit, no it can't be!"
"He way too frosted to work in the office!"
And shit, I'd have to agree
What did I do with my f*ckin' degrees?
Showed them that everything ain't what it seems
Flyin' by the f*ckin' seat of my pants
Not gonna land and I'm not sayin' please
Spellin' it out for the niggas in doubt
I just need focus, I'm somethin' to see
From east to the west, Florida Keys
This ain't over till we play overseas
Come on, come on, come on
Come on, come on
Come on, come on, come on
Come on, come on
(Come on, come on)