Verse
Motherfuckers have no clue how Big my Ego is,
Little fat Nigga go to war with Cock Diesel Kids.
Never intimidated, dish it out, I can take it,
Return the favor times ten until I’m vindicated.

A lot of Niggas hate it, that I’m so celebrated,
Acknowledgements come belated, but still appreciated.
Nigga, I knew the truth, saw you at the ticket booth,
Working that guest list, but that friggin’ stub is the proof!

Nigga, I walk the walk, and get paid to talk the talk,
On the auction block, selling fresh Black Hawk squawk!
Nothing up my sleeves, naked with my hands bound,
Feet shackled, under orders not to make a sound.

Gatekeepers and Tastemakers all around,
Pound for pound are clowns, trying to hold local artists down.
Saboteurs, damn right im mad at your cowardice,
Now you got beef with the matador – I will get

Even with these Thievery Corporations,
Nigga, I said it = these Thievery Corporations!
No implication to them cats Nation’s Cap stationed,
But im just saying, if the shoe fits, what’s your size?

And since I’m in the back, let me clarify,
My problem ain’t with DC9, its with the Bookings Guy!
It’s a crooked lie, Head-Roc ain’t rational
Chocolate City, fuck Reagan, Still call it National!

Fly Natural:
Beaked mandible, Claws fully retractable!
A Masteful, Black Radical: Dappable or Scrappable,
Nigga, whatever’s practical!