>Fuck all you goes! Get a grip, mother fucker!
>Yeah, this album is dedicated
>To all the teachers that told me I'd never amount to nothin'
>To all the people that live above the buildings I was hustlin' in front of
>Called the police on me when I was just tryin' to make some money to feed my daughter
>And all the niggas in the struggle
>You know what I'm sayin'? It's all good, baby baby
>It was all a dream, I used to read Word Up! magazine
>Salt-n-Pepa and Heavy D up in the limousine
>Hanging' pictures on my wall
>Every Saturday Rap Attack, Mr. Magic, Marley Marl
>I let my tape rock 'til my tape popped
>Smokin' weed in Bambu, sippin' on Private Stock
>Way back, when I had the red and black lumberjack
>With the hat to match
>Remember Rappin' Duke? Duh-ha, Duh-ha
>You never thought that hip-hop would take it this far
>Now I'm in the limelight 'cause I rhyme tight
>Time to get paid, blow up like the World Trade
>Born sinner, the opposite of a winner
>Remember when I used to eat sardines for dinner
>Peace to Ron G, Brucie B, Kid Capri
>Funkmaster Flex, Lovebug Starski
>I'm blowin' up like you thought I would
>Call the crib, same number, same hood, it's all good
>And if you don't know, now you know, nigga
>You know very well
>Who you are
>Don't let 'em hold you down
>Reach for the stars
>You had a goal
>But not that many
>'Cause you're the only one
>I'll give you good and plenty
>I made the change from a common thief
>To up close and personal with Robin Leach
>And I'm far from cheap, I smoke skunk with my peeps all day
>Spread love, it's the Brooklyn way
>The Moët and Alizé keep me pissy, girls used to diss me
>Now they write letters 'cause they miss me
>I never thought it could happen, this rapping stuff
>I was too used to packing gats and stuff
>Now honeys play me close like butter play toast
>From the Mississippi down to the East Coast
>Condos in Queens, indo for weeks
>Sold out seats to hear Biggie Smalls speak
>Living life without fear
