[Intro]
Who...
Do...
You...
Think you are?

[Verse 1: Maxo]
Seeing they schemes
Watch what I know deplete
Find meaning in things
Lost grasp of myself, held on for me
Knowing defeat ain’t foreign
It’s lessons in these scriptures
If you told me to read, listen
I benefitted
When I seen lines between game and wisdom
Same n***a, jottin’ down thoughts in my folks kitchen
Knowin’ we gone hit been
Shown that God’s gift really gracin’ the way I walk
So my word is I’m gon’ live
Seen the snakes sittin’ in the grass, on purpose
Posted with a smile on they face, on purpose
My eyes seen denial in they face
When the devil in the way
Spread your wings then fly…

[Verse 2: Topaz Jones]
In my will It should read “Just leave it there in the dirt”
What's a Mill to a Meek?
Watch me inherit the Earth
The Dream is a nightmare
We built America’s worth
I need a Bimmer in between the baby carriage and hearst
I wrestled demons and my doubts, watched them crawl right back
I made the Roc raise a brow, guess I’m Raw like that
They sent over a contract to own all my tracks
I twisted an L wit it
Then lit a fire, to hell wit it
Insult to my intelligence
Charts about my relevance
Talkin’ to my relatives
Know my problems is relative
Know once I’m in my element
It’s no more Mr. Eloquent
I’m addressing the elephants
Too much pride for the prejudice
I’m just flesh on a skeleton
That was blessed with some melanin
Who am I to be special and viewed as some kind of specimen?
Ladies and gentlemen, expats and residents
Crack pushers and presidents
Black beauty and excellence
Who...
Do...
You...
Think you are?
[Verse 3: Phonte]
Yo
I was hours deep within a dream
Playing some records with my lyrics on the inner sleeve
Until I got shouted out (wake up!)
Life in a crowded house
Just tryna find some living room in a den of thieves
But now I stand a made man with no tacky maneuvers
Come out the crib to get a bag then it’s back to the movement
I get caught up in the act of pursuing my own dreams
I don’t care about what the fuck these crackers is doin’
A child born into a permanent underclass
Full of misquotes and dish soaps for bubble baths
Black vigilance, Black businesses understaffed
And the odds never add up, ‘cause you have done the math
I’m living proof of making something outta something bad
So when my children grow, they ain’t gotta run as fast
Some friendly words from a debated underrated rapper
Tigallo, reminding you your favorite rapper’s fucking trash

(Bridge)
All that floodin’ the ice, turn off the faucet
All that smoke in the pipe, got you exhausted
All that salt in the wound, until it washes
All that callin’ the goons, don’t wanna forfeit
All that floodin’ the ice, turn off the faucet
All that smoke in the pipe, got you exhausted
All that salt in the wound, until it washes
All that callin’ the goons, don’t wanna forfeit
[Outro]
Who...
Do...
You...
Think you are?