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Boomboxx
Bigg Steele
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I've been there, I'm a product of poverty
Visualize where it started in that raggedy apartment
Seeing, unit six, where the heroin needles from addicts
Covered the concrete, grass only grew in patches
One out of every five mothers had a crack habit
Three out of every five pops just up and vanished
Creating bastards who turned misfortune to mansion
And morphed pain into hip hop classics
We the, ghetto messiahs, spread our gospel through the bootleggers
Prosperity preaching, the words reach foreign nations
I thank God for Caz, Herc, and Flash
And visionaries like Eric Wright and Dame Dash
Uncle Luke, Jay, Prince, and Russell
The players that turned dreams into billion dollar hustles
Know that, without hip hop in my life I would probably be
On level four in the walls of the penitentiary
I still remember the first time
That I ever cut my boombox on
I just lay back and unwind
Whenever I cut my boombox on
Now who's that brolic Puerto Rican that's beneath that L.A. fitted
Lyrically so committed I should be, literally committed
To a mental institution, chasing satanic illusions
Survived my stepfathers abuses, my music loosen nooses
It's proven I'm ruthless, this dude is so ready to rumble
Ain't playing with a full deck so
Please don't get caught in my shuffle (okay)
As a child living in a hovel, I'd mug you to get a name buckle
Violent problems got em like I'm Saddam Hussein's insane uncle
But massive, no muzzle so erratic
Beef better keep it hidden, like Schwarzenegger's coke habit
Spilling my pain, psychological dark thoughts (yeah)
Animal niggas should be walking on all fours (yeah)
I spit it hot with the skill of a thief picking a lock
In a biz full of bullshit like my MySpace inbox
My pen is a menace, I control your world in one sentence
West coast stamped up, Chino, Big Steele and Kendrick (yeah)
Started drinking St. Ides when I was knee-high
Still never look over the hill like Denzel in Book of Eli
Before 16 and Rick Rubin signed me (yeah)
I'd turn on my boombox and imagine I was Cool J, God is good
I still remember the first time
That I ever cut my boombox on
I just lay back and unwind
Whenever I cut my boombox on
Welcome to my world, back when Martin was the shit
And rocking Deion Sanders kicks with tap water curls
Surrounded by chaos, chronic bottles of St. Ides
A pup looking at canines, yeah, K was like nine
A young buck, tryn'a find his outlet
Could'a been an outlaw, Lil Wayne wasn't out yet
Inspired by DMX, inspired my first rhyme
Glad to find a forty-niner, I done struck a gold mine
Y'all done fucked up, my lyrics like buck buck
Then reload, then buck buck until you get fucked up
Porno, lights, cameras, action
I'm 'bout to get it cracking like the ceiling in your grandma's attic
Bitch, I'm at it all night long
On Coney to make King Kong
And that means I'm quick to stampede on each and every song
I be, Kendrick, expensive
Lyrics out the ass, you smell what I'm kicking
Boomboxes I get wicked, Polo
I still remember the first time
That I ever cut my boombox on
I just lay back and unwind
Whenever I cut my boombox on
When times is crazy
I look at the stereo and it say play me
That's when I get ghost, oh
That's when I get ghost, oh
You see this is my story, my pain, my struggle and fight
And when I wanna get away from life I cut my boombox on, oh
I cut my boombox on, oh
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