I only spit to tell you facts In junior high, I went to school with kids who sell you crack Was ridiculed by my peers They whisper Pointing while they laugh In 7th grade, I had a pistol pointed at my back Back then, I was a cursed teen with a bruised fist My only best friend was thirteen with two kids The flower child My mothers worse seed that grew big In Sunday school I watched my church sing with loose lips Road rage on this road to riches To go to school 'cause sharpened pencils is how I show niggas my point of view Never avoid the truth Hungry for the success But inside of this business Only the greed can enjoy the food League of my own I don't compete with these cats 'Cause you niggas trash I'd rather hear your beats than your raps Took a ego trip and my clothe The only think that I packed Then I flew to a private island for a week to relax for real, for real Didn't have to sell a dream A junior high In school with kids That's getting cream Scrutinized for my moves Watching plotting on the team Before a digital scale was rocking on the beam I failed at first but found my balance sprinting last place Marathon runners don't come up at a fast pace Found my talent Head up in the clouds haze Fades as evidence I'm true to the foul plays For the record: Put the madness to the method Digging in the crates Found the fragments of the wreckage I just loop it Hard to say I hadn't been invested Going back in time before I hadn't been arrested In the public If I rock a chain, I wouldn't tuck it Going back to Cali still rocking a bucket Fuck the fuck shit Not the cloth I'm a cuts it When confrontation came up, they change the subject These ain't rhymes I'm just speaking the facts A Jewish kid who hung with Puerto Ricans and blacks For years, my only white friend were beyond shifty They picked on me so long, I thought something was wrong with me I used to write a song and wonder who gon' get me Is it too good? Will I be misunderstood? Now, the whole world understand my vocals A hero to all the weirdos and the anti-social Check it They signed up for the program Never had a prom with a chick to grind up too and slow dance These naysayers got no chance And you don't know pain, 'til you get lined up by your own mans The frigid weather over minuscule digits You walk through the hood and you don't even know who did it Today, my pocket's fatter than the hands on a midget I'm smart 'cause I rely on my heart, not analytics Know I'm saying Know I'm saying Know I'm saying