Verse 3
From sold out arenas to the silver screen, I move crowds
and drop hits that make the people scream, stack cream,
get chauffeured in stretched out limousines, I’m
a hot Album, you just a ahhh 16, T-Bone is hard as it gets
and I don’t fly first class, why? I travel with chef’s
on private jets, That’s why you mad and upset, hommie
I paid my dues though, been ripping these mic’s since
tape decks, so place your bets, I’m the best yet,
move the crowd and make ya bounce like bad checks, I got
next, like the WNBA, defeating me is like blacks joining
the KKK, It won’t happen, like hoods without guns
clapping, or hip-hop wit no DJ’s and MC’s rapping,
It’s contradictory, none of you’ll ever get
wit me, the dopest to ever breath on a mic and claim victory.