"[1]
If I end where I started, I bet you gone know the difference
This is living, not merely existing—bars without the prisons
Far beyond the glimmer of prisms reflecting light—

My father was so dark that I’m bright—sun of the night
And you’re loony to think the tunes you’re confusing
With you consuming the fruit of the tree of knowledge
Are any truer to you if you got it. See, if I start where I finish
You’ll see the difference in presentation, delivery, understanding and memory
Remember, if you can see the forest and the leaves
The branches and the trees, advance and then recede
Then maybe you can see there’s an art to the game of war
Start just a day before, and end with a 24 to relax

No basketball metaphor, but even still
If your Achilles Heel is revealed and you need to heal
Nobody wants to hear that you’re resting to get better
They’re more or less on quest to investigate your succession

[Hook]
If you call what you do rap—I say you shouldn’t do that
If you insist, then I suggest that you do this:
Call what I do something that’s the total opposite
‘Cause we don’t do the same thing, bruh—that’s kind of obvious
I say there’s room for us both—but who am I?
And people seem to be cool with confusing you and I
But I’m not
And I’m aware how the moves in the game are played
But how ‘bout we just call a spade a spade

[2]
To this new generation of “emcees,”
On knees, giving new definition to succeed

Take this as a warning, and take pause
Take a look in the mirror, witness what you caused

Identity crisis, pretending to like what I don’t
Is what I don’t do. I’m really polite
When it comes to writing nice shit
My pen’s on the night shift, bar hopping
Trying to scribble some lines that are jaw dropping
I often fail to engage in the conversations occurring
That start with “back in the days.” I’m more concerned with the current
But currently, If I’m looking for flow, then I guess I oughta
Play my own shit, or find a body of water

That’s deep, ‘cause it’s really the way I feel
But it’s also kind of shallow. I understand the appeal
Of appearing to be persnickety, flipping, lickety-split
And then splitting some dividends
I guess this is where it ends and begins
[Hook]

[3]
I call a spade by it’s name. No faking jacks, or no bluffing
The heart of a king that’s beating when speaking over percussion
Conducted by Preme—call it a premium pre-production
Cause this is teaching, and THE main feature will be discussion
So, see, mane: Let me explain just how I does it
You do it how you can. I do; however you doesn’t. No man
Woman, child, could a style ever create—to see A
Dot. Stop it if you trying. No lying. No standing near him either
He’s a monster breathing
Fire. When I sigh, it’s sayonara to ya—see ya
I applaud ya’, patna, but this part of writing speeches
For me is like comparing snuff to art inspired features
I murder beats just to bring ‘em back to life and let you witness
Listen, be convinced that it’s a sickness I’m afflicted with
The sickest shit you ever want to say you ever saw
And you can say you saw it from the start."

[Hook]