(Verse)
Enter the mind of a rapper, homey, with loose screws./
What makes it worse, he got a pen that's loose too./

And you know that's a fact, homey, like true blue./
I even rap them raps while I'm droppin' a deuce, deuce./
I'm on a roll, homey, like I'm present for class./

I am the answer, but you still got question to ask./
Unlike no other, nothing you can compare me to./
Ya boy is cold, Theraflu. Rip you apart, tear in two./

I'm spittin', yeah, I'm spittin' to the point that I might slob./
They are steady sprintin', I'm givin' a slight jog./
And if the music ain't hittin' then I guess that's my prob (problem)./

But it's not! Spit so sick I had to call my doc./
I'm 'bout to put on a show. How far am I gonna go?/
"Started from the bottom," no drizzy Drake, but like an underscore./

My composition go platinum like it wasn't gold./
But you know ya boy. I'm strivin' like it's another goal./
I'm 'bout to make some noise. Yeah, I'm 'bout to make some noise./

Yeah, they say I am childish like I'm breakin' some toys./
Guess they meant to say "Childish" like Gambino./
Though I am highly understood like the G-Code./

But you know ya boy feelin' like a champ,
And I'm so official, yeah, I'm feelin' like a stamp./
I ain't even overloadin' yet, and that's a bet,

Knock it out the park like a baseball bat./
I don't even care what you think about me.
Not sayin' I'm the man, but that's likely./

Paper and pen inside my jeans.
I plan to be rappin' til' I'm 90./ HA!