The Statement (feat. Miami Beat Wave)

I used to be the rapper who don't fit in with the rest but wait I'm still the rapper who don't fit in with the rest Maybe its because I'm focused on the shit that I address Instead of using a mother fucking gimmick to impress Influenced when i heard an Eminem cassette How he uses every word and he mixes and connects All these syllables he kills it bro with wits and intellect So it hit my interest and became a little bit obsessed That was in back in 99 when when I was 12 I was cryin' out for help all these errors and the terror Of just staring in this mirror got me quite beside myself But life would take it easy on me when I put my mic inside adele And now the flows iMac and i honed my craft And won't relax until I know that every showed is packed One day they'll notice that my soul will be all over rap My music will go full circle put on the coldest act But half of your sheep couldn't grasp what I speak And the fact is that this track wouldn't last you a week So do that math you rappers ain't a fraction of me Cuz once I get in my mode I'll prove you're average emcees nah mean Divide and conquer til I know that I'm the dopest I'm here to get on your nerves that's multiple sclerosis And I got the illest flow that no ones noticed Maybe the day I'm pushing flowers will be the day that I'm that I'm holding all my roses It just dwelled on me they telling me I'll never top ten Fallacies they fail to see failing is barely an option You'll rarely see someone rare as me a rarity god sent While you're hearing me you're literally inheriting prophet But apparently the punch soft celebrity boxing You can ch-ch-check the melody like Eric B Rakim When you're hearing me use your words carefully and sparingly And please don't not compare me to garbage where were we I've been hungry for this shit but I guess I can't find a plate Told you that I'm warming up these are slightly micro waves Bars multis punches every rhyme that I create And the flow is just the mother fucking icing on the cake But it's my own asphalt that I ain't make it and blow Cuz I stopped riding for a minute and was chasing the dope And now I'm trying to find a lane but life taking its toll And so much traffic i just can't find the right way to go I see my exit coming up should I up and just go towards it Cuz everything else went south and I'm so over it I'm closer than I thought so fuck it I'll go for it What good is drive when you got nothing to chauffeur it When I write rhymes I feel like I'm spitting to myself Cuz they don't listen they thinking that I'm like everybody else Guess I'll never get discovered like the Indian in the cupboard I'll just be the minority that's sitting in a shelf I can tell you bout the time that I was trapping on the streets And how I stopped and started rapping on these beats but you don't listen I can tell you bout bout the years of cold showers burning candles for hours A house with no power but you won't listen Or the bucket under the roof catching the raindrops And scuffing all of my shoes not having the same socks I can tell you bout the landlords trippin and evictions I can even tell you bout the drug addictions but you won't listen