it’s my time, I’m bout to blow
you slept first, now you know
the rap game, a thousand clones
all worried about they clothes
I used to chill, at my home
Now I’m all about the road
Moving, locking down the shows
Hit the telly, count the dough
Shake hands, make plans, rent vans, make fans, God damn
This is how a little boy became a man
You want the fame and all the riches
Big name model bitches
But you don’t wanna hustle
twice as hard to try to get it
You got a lot to wine about
While you talking wildin out
I’m posted outside the club
working passing flyers out
what’s Print’s life about? The same thing I rhyme about
make good music and give my fans something to smile about
you outta try it out, we like to call it honesty
it’s the best policy, the reason why they follow me
my reputation proceeds me, the rap game needs me
cause I do the impossible, but make it look easy
now all the underdogs wanna take shots at my figure
cause I’m eatin real big and didn’t invite them to dinner
you wasn’t there when I put it in the oven
so when it’s time to break bread cousin don’t ask me for nothing
everybody got a rhyme, if not a rhyme they got a beat
if not keys of cocaine, they all packin heat
so what they really telling me, when they aint outselling me
and everything they say or do is fueled by their jealousy?
I know you tryin to politic, and I’m only involved with it
So you can get in the game, take the ball and then run with it
They tried to hit me with the same thing that you fell for
“make it more commercial Print you probably would sell more!”
But I’m eatin now, so I’m like “what the hell for?”
Telling me to change only makes me rebel more
But radio don’t want that, print don’t fit the format
Tell dude to change it up then maybe he can come back
I made this in my basement when you wasn’t even there
To express my feelings, not to be played on the air
So am I wrong or secure if I really don’t care
If this ever turns into something that anybody hears?
Man I’m an artist. These other dudes is shook.
I write my album on my sidekick
No paper, no notebooks, then rhyme for five minutes straight
No breaks, no hooks, no punchlines, no similes
so I’m easy to overlook
But Grooveshack, Theives World, Expo, Scribblejam
I been around in every single era and I’m still the man
And while I may not get the same hype as the next man
Everything in my life is going according to his plan
So thank God for every fan, every single listener
Who told me to make the art, you don’t gotta switch it up
You put it out, we’ll pick it up
Do you, stay strong
Cause you’re the main reason we don’t turn our radios on.