Текст Joell Ortiz – Six Fo’

You could pull up any verse and never dip on the high
Why am I still considered the head honcho?
Fire flows turn all them designer clothes into red ponchos
Paragraphs disperse lead pronto
Bring you to your knees slow like Tebow watchin’ the Jets-Broncos
Look at what my thoughts bring
These up and comers like the first day of summer, they my offspring
Feels like an undercover boss thing
Oh my godly pace forces me to hardly race, I’m New York’s king
These words runnin’ ’round in my head
I slow ’em down and connect ’em underground ’til y’all dead
They said if you rap too good, you’ll never make a profit
Tell that to these bank tellers when I make deposits
Tell that to the flight attendant when the plane departin’
And tell your bitch get off my dick like Lorena Bobbitt
This ain’t no movie that I play a part in
It’s real life and I’m nice in the punch-you-in-the-face department
Writin’ hand too strong, you gotta break your arm and
To try to be in conversations that my name’s involved in
I’m best of friends with Eminem, Dr. Dre and all them
Gang members, Yelawolf, Paul, Tracy and all them
I would play the park bench with a crazy Walkman
Listenin’ straight, no rewind button
Flip the tape, fast forward just to rewind somethin’
Fast forward, I’m flippin’ tapes, look at me, I’m frontin’
They said I’d never make it

Rikers Island just knew they’d be makin’ bed arrangements
One of them bullets just knew they would hit my chest and cave it
I’m wanted, better face it
I’m Dufresne, I’ve been through a lot of shit, but better I ‘scaped it
I’m from a world full of run-up-in-your-spot robbers
No carpentry class kinda ox carvers
On the block with a Glock and rock joggers
And nobody saw nothin’, you got shot for bein’ a blogger
Look what all these hard bars did for me
Nice guys finish last, I gotta disagree
This spittin’ spree keeps me at the dealership
Like I fuck nothin’ but virgins, every year I’m in a different V
While these rappers got a kick out of mimicry
My raps felt like blackbelts in the 6th degree
I roundhouse anyone who tryna trade rounds
With the House and house rounds in any battle, nigga, this is me
I get it poppin’, it’s the Papi Chulo
Pop into this spot, pop bottles then pop out with your mami culo
Just fucked a pop star but promised to never let you know
I’m tellin’ you though, she look like she on Telemundo
I don’t care if she faked it all day
Right after I nut, I said I came a long way
From coppin’ new Js in Dr. Jays on Broadway
To stylists at the Grammys, watchin’ plays on Broadway
To the private invite from playwrights, guess I played it right
Is y’all Mayweather or Mike, is you gon’ take the fight?
I’m just tryna get in shape to hit the weigh in like
Skip this press conference, less nonsense, nigga say goodnight
I took an oath to never let my fans down
First rapper to man up’ll be a man down
Skinny, chubby, fat, 5’6″ tall
Line ’em up, I got a coffin that’s one-size-fits-all
This pen is what kept me out the pens, but how you act depends
If a life sentence pens for pennin’ your end
My wrist swings like a pendulum for perfect penmanship
Been there, oh my empire’s dependent again