Cleaning Out My Closet Freestyle

Lyrics

[Intro] Where's my snare? Yo, shout out Kells, seen him doin' the freestyles, got me inspired Yeah, okay [Verse] Paranoid, gotta keep a pistol on the black dresser Went twice as far as most of the rappers where I come from 'cause they some half-steppers Ironic that mama ain't wanna hear me playin' no rap records I turned into a professor Unless you droppin' that weak shit, I'm a oppressor These pills I got, homie, they not prescription Posted up on Church Street, gettin' money but it's not religion Mom, she was so saint-like, who I gotta thank for these thug habits? Dad stopped playin' baseball with the kid, went to be a drug addict Meditatin' at the crib, tryna clear this conscience Two devils on my shoulder, talkin' in my ear, homie, and it's constant Took so many L's, feel like I never come after W's Like when you write an address and abbreviate Wisconsin So many fake ballers in the game, feel like I'll always be deranged If I buy some chains off ShopGold, then we all could be the same Y'all took "fake it 'til you make it" to an all-time high, I can't relate I'd rather be honest 'bout where I'm at and whip up mo' butter, make the cake Y'all scrapin' up change and you on the street, lookin' like low-riders Yelawolf Blacksheep set the whole wave, now a bunch of white rappers some flow biters Fuck it, I got mo' drive than a transmission and fo' tires If you never paid homage, clutch the Louis bag when you roll by us In an industry full of ghostwriters, no tellin' who could rap Havin' someone else tell your whole story, how the fuck you cool with that? Got six mugshots on the internet, homie, and you could Google that And I went Melly when the police came, I got nothin' to do with that I grew up 'round biker gangs, never say a damn word then get the RICO dropped Y'all favorite rapper tellin' on they homeboys, went and got they people got Shit I can't respect, police come, I can't recollect She gave me head inside of that sprinter, her and my dick are neck and neck Black Sheep Records on the chain, from Johnny Dang, it's on the way I made a lotto off of the raps, y'all pockets thick as Coi Leray Thought I'm producin' albums for Drake the way that I make this 40 play Have forty motherfuckers outside your house, it won't cost me 40K I'm that same kid signed to Birdman back when I was the herb man American History X, shave the head, have you bitin' the curb, man They'll get a hand-out then double-cross you, I've seen that shit firsthand Homie said he don't know if he could be a star, had to tell him, "You sure can" Godfather, y'all kiss the ring when the king come Thumbin' through a motherfuckin' check, bet none of y'all ever seen ones Reason why they give mean mugs, y'all tryna give the kid smoke but I got clean lungs Type of shit make me wanna go and grab machine guns Speakin' of which, the first rapper that I ever linked with was Kells Back when he was tourin' down South Florida and I was workin' scales Passin' CDs outside of shows for free, wasn't even makin' sales Then he linked, gave me a feature, said, "You a real one and we could tell" Then I got signed, that two hunnid grand was like money in the mail But then them drugs took me into deep waters, got hard for me to sail Lost my deal, went broke for a lil while, had my ego frail Upset that I never did what he did, had to watch as he prevailed But I never hated on him, prayed for him and cheered from the side Knowin' another man's success really got nothin' to do with mine That shit was motivation to stop complainin' and get back on the grind Go make that music that resonate with you, let God deal with the time Think about how Van Gogh never sold a lot of paintings while he was alive Remind yourself that yo' accolades aren't how you are defined Think about pop's face hearin' that you rap, first time before he died Think about that kid who said if it wasn't for you, then he wouldn't have survived [Outro] Real shit Cadillac Music on the way I wanna say thank you to the fans, man Black Sheep forever