I’m hollerin’ at your feminine side, is it or isn’t it genuine?nLet women decide, for men will ever judge from within thisnMinute in time, and the standard I’m held to isnFrom another planet, I landed here when mine fell throughnAlienated by no paleontological tiesnBut never is this kid discredited by the honorablenAll rise, son – the sun presides, the abominablenFind it comical I call my shine beyond nominal, uhnMy handle fine-tuned to channel 19nAddress my living letters, better left unsignednThough punctual, no wonder you’re some kind of comfortablenStomach full of lunch-line chuck and junk foodnEmpty calories will soon catch up, comments arenCovered in condiments, son it must have been my fat gene’s dominantnCommon represents the conjugate that heaven sent to complimentnThe veteran’s accomplishment, the conscious honor it, butnnnWhispers of them do us like we’re disingenuous, likenYou only rock it for the paper that’s thrownnAs if this is an end to my condition of indigencenNah, we holdin’ stock in something sacred as stonenSo when victims of insolence rise above the influencenI open the flock to those who made it alonenIt’s the mission of men who just write despite ignorancenYo, with swollen pockets we gon’ take it back homennnSCRATCH HOOK:nnnThis goes out to all my people in the city (repeated)nWhere we don’t get caught up in between with the nonsensenThis goes out to all my people in the city (repeated)nNever worryin’ about griefnnnDefine your residence, if these 4 walls simply shelter you from elementsnI recommend you get out morenOff base you face a down pour, catch a taste of what thenTown’s renowned for, these spates will drown y’allnSlick and precipitous, I’m bloodied up, to thenCity of Brotherly Love, 206 is the antithesisnMy tolerance is type ridiculous, though InContinuously seek forgiveness for the shit I wished upon younA disservice to mom dukes – she raised me betternFor her baby, set a greater precedent to gage and measure successnAnd I know she will never love me no lessnBut you sycophants are sick, ugly and grotesquenI’m amongst the monstrous who breathe fire out the nostrilsnAkin to conquerors you read about in the gospelsnInhospitable are the Pontius, Pilate the prefectnThese Sea-dwellin’ fellas aint accepted me yetnnnSo I stay on my biz and if he play the periphery henControl the block around the space them cats ownnI see this state of misery as the greatest gift to me, yonMy golden op will be escapin’ that dronenSee I’m a late epiphany, uh, away from mendicancynI told ‘em stop it, son – don’t wait for that loannI heard they say it’s trickery, but we’re makin’ historynYo, with swollen pockets we gon’ take it back homennnSCRATCH HOOK