Lyrics
Ahhh yeah, come on now
Ahhh yeah, come on now
Ahhh yeah, come on now
Ahhh yeah, come on now
Yo, stop, look, and heed, participate in the reorganizing
Of a lyricist, decide the category
I fall into. When I’m on the venue, I tend to
Serve a delicacy—fella, peep what’s on the menu
The slept-on phenomenon, the mic be in my palm and arm
Many want to hold me back ‘cause I’m coming on
Strong, subject matters are struck. My imagination
Is wonder, I’s underestimated by sons of
Bitches who had power to sign me but fronted, wanted
Stuff I didn’t fit into my phonics, so they’re uninvited
Telling me, «Do this, do that, do this, do that, do this
In order to sell this, you got to pursue this type of program»
I ain’t no mascot for no massa like Mister Slave
Driver some-odd years ago, and, yo
O is not about to be between an imaginary tug-of-war
Feeding me park-style with bread like a pigeon, so I say:
Get your ears ready for creative control
‘Cause no one’s gonna tell me how to sell out my soul, hah
Get your ears ready for creative control
‘Cause no one’s gonna tell me how to sell out my soul, yeah
Come on now
Ahhh yeah, come on now
Ahhh yeah, come on now
Ahhh yeah, come on now
Ahhh yeah, come on now