[Produced by Tommy Black]
[Verse 1: Ab-Soul]
My back against the wall, like I see y'all fronting
Drowning in your own spit and ain't coming up with nothing
I call this shit "Rapper Shit" cause I ain't a rapper
But if I was, this ain't some shit that I could rap after
Caught up in the rapture, you call yourself a factor
You're lame, paving a way Bob could build faster
I'm a real master, real massive, you just real average
I see your chain, it's strange, they wore those in the Middle Passage
And it's harder to play me than to fiddle backwards
Don't act like you knew my tactics
Cause when it hits the fan, you know I stand last
I see through your true colors like stained glass
I see the fear in your eyes when we arrive
And what's the odds of even thinking you coincide
When every time a nigga open a door you go inside
Just to realize, either you're weak or someone lied
See, you spend more time boasting about what you do than you do
So by the time your shit is due it's doo-doo
And who knew that too cool fool who used to sit in the back
Would slip through the crack, like dudes who went to rehab
Ab-Soul, Abstract Asshole
Black Lip Bastard, et cetera for forever
I follow no ruler, even if I'm under a drastic measure
But whatever
