Some days I contemplate,

On fools I want to hate,

For putting up their nose;  and turning their back,

Because smoking is what I chose, with a pipe full of crack.

I ain’t point no fingaz’.  Yawl know who yawl is.

Yawl gonna hate that dreadful day, yawl got into by biz.

Now, it’s no more wishin’ I’m outta the pen;  and back in the hood—I’m home.

Cancelin’ checks ANXIOUS, to leave yawl fake assess alone.

Yawl’s mistake wuz obvious underes-timating me,

Yeah ME!  That nigga LE$ from the co-na of Denva, and, 1-1-3.

STOP!  DON’T LEAVE!  SIT DOWN!  It’s time this shit be said.

By the time I’m done ALL yawl gonna wish yawl wuz dead.

So now that I have yawl’s stupid-assess attention.

Oh my gosh!  This shit I’m sayin is gonna cause some major friction.

Yawl came to yawl’s conclusion from yawl’s own confusion.

Now you see me before your eyes.  Fool I ain’t no illusion.

You drew your own picture;  and started to figure.

That I’d gone insane.  That I wasn’t the same.

But little did yawl know I STILL controlled my brain

WAIT!  HOLD UP!  I’M JUST STARTIN’!  I AIN’T THROUGH!

When I’m done, once a-gain you’ll call me Mister An-drew!

Oh my goodness my GOSH!  On my momma I say.

Thanks to my creator for lettin’ me wake today.

For my eyes have seen people go the ex-treme,

To show their ignorance, then proceed to be so mean.

But I’m over it now.  It’s affected me none.

Yawl can’t be-lieve yawl starin’ down, my Lyrical Gun.

BANG!  All in yo-face.  You chose yo’own fate.

And I’m still standin’ here.  There’s no need to escape.

I want to make it clear.  Too late for you to retract.

I ain’t playin’.  I’m just layin’ it down, fact after fact.

I know ya ain’t likin’ whatcha hearin’.  Oh well!

I wuz thinkin’ bout ALL this shit when I wuz in jail.

You run and hide when you see me mobbin’ down the block.

Knowin’ my Lyrical Gun, is loaded and cocked.

But I ain’t trippin’ off you fools right now so calm your nerves.

There is plenty of time, before your ass get served.

I see you peepin’ out the windows;  and lockin’ your doors.

Shakin’ like a bitch and sweatin’ outta ya pores.

Ya gotta understand I’m on some knew shit now.

But I know you’re hatin’ when my Lyrical Gun goes POW!