Knock

Yo, this shit keeps weighin me down, beatin me up

Like every day's governed by Murphy's Law

It never drops, but inside I'm, tied up

In stress knots and chains and bills that ain't paid

I damn near work for Dun & Bradstreet

Keep a bank card and a wallet for show, I hate empty spaces

Fill 'em with MetroCards that's been already took me places

Fun Passes, loose changes, gum wrappers, maybe numbers

Battery covers to CD players, and that's it

I got some plastic

But can't even use it, the bad credit's so drastic

Ask me bastard if I'm signed, I rhyme sick

But niggas is quick to turn they back on spitters with clits

Hit em with this, and ridiculous phrase flow that exit my lips

Hey yo, I mean my face, though

They still want chicks with tits and ass out

My respect is worth more than your advance cash-out

I'm f**kin you right in the ear

If these chicks did it you'd be catchin gonorrhea

The only thing I spread is tinnitus

Just tryin to keep this shit right

And for all of y'all askin when my joint droppin

Watch me this year

It's like.

Hustles don't get knocked, except the ones that

Fuck with my business and dough, you can forget that

I told you once it's not gangsta, it's just right

Don't get it f**ked, I don't like to spit my shit twice

Keep your fake thuggin, afraid to get in fist fights

Glittery knuckles never made me shiver, buckle never

Knocka, this how I get down

I'ma have to do that again, so y'all can hear it

That's what I said, yeah yeah

Yeah

Yeah

It's crazy how I'm still catchin with no major distribution

Slice through like guillotines, I'm precise with a execution

The definition of artist, past the hype and the business

So I paint the track like a canvas in post-impressionist style

Time keeps gettin postponed like Emmy Awards

My moms cataloguin my shit like she's Afeni Shakur

Many of y'all ain't even worth a penny for thoughts

So I ignore the rumors and the biters

More than y'all ignore the Unsigned Hype in The Source

Peace to Steady Rock and Tyson And a big f**k you to bitch Chris Lombardi at Matador

And every A&R that turned me down

Props to kids who stayed loyal since "Baseball" dropped

And copped the underground, see, the barrel was facin me

Now I turn the gun around and it's got unlimited ammunition

I dare you to question, now they'll know I'm dressin

So don't skip through the record

But if you're lookin for some shit to bump in the ride, you should check it

Alright, alright

One more time

One more time

What

What

What

What

What

Get it?

Got it?

Good

Let's get on with it then