Top Of The Food Chain

I could have made real money pushing weed on the block

Pimping out women, to put the game on lock

But truthfully: I left the dirt behind me

Present day: I let the words I write define me

I put my soul onto the page, grace the stage

I look younger than my age like its a phase

I’m going to look the same twenty years from now; believe it

Without hard work and consistency, don’t expect to achieve it

2016 is the year to get the models back in my life

The women who stack paper, who put up a fight

Welcome to the chronicles of a fly guy

I stay undercover like an international spy

Living in hell is cold, but the ground is scorching

I ascended to heaven, obtained by extortion

I would die before surrendering to any murderer

The queens I roll with are popular, I know you heard of her

Downtown eating lunch, but that’s just a small move

I’m a giant that’s stuck in his own groove

I have a lot to prove; eating clean enhances my mood

When I look around, all I see is food

The scent of money is in the air, ready to descend

I cut off a lot of people throughout the years; fake friends

Loyal until the death of me, the hustle is sold separately

My verses are like popping pills of ecstasy

Striking pose with an impeccable style

Dressed fresh, forever charming Kyle

The streets are getting colder and I’m getting older

Broader shoulders, prepared to move boulders

You have no choice but to acknowledge me

I’m the purest writer, examine my biology

I light up the room like the sun just entered

I get cream like an Oreo centre

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