My story was planned
All was programmed
Crammed at the core, recording dope jams
I'd hold my umbilical cord with both hands and flow to my cardiograms in the calm, I'd go ham, conjure barbaric bars
Ma' could have called me Conan
A cold Man in the making, like Jehovah and Satan's souls had a relation a dope, rapping creation
I won't brag, but won't hold back information
So don't act like I'm up and coming
I'd already crafted four albums in my mother's oven, youngin'
Now when I rap I hold my frigging penis and
Get flashbacks of when I was only just a fetus
Shit, I was such a vocalistic genius thinking; Jesus, one day the
Globe will get to see this, but for now...

I'm just gonna sit here
Patiently waiting
The world ain't ready for me yet
I can tell
The world ain't ready for me yet
I can tell
The world ain't ready for me yet
I can tell
The world ain't ready for me yet
I can tell
The world ain't ready for me yet