Whatcha know about this, whatcha know about that
Everybody wanna know what I know about rapping like
Whatcha know about the trap, whatcha know about walking the streets in all black
You right, that ain't me
I been busy working on a college degree
And meanwhile getting paid so it's plain to see
I'm on the come up and you can't say a thing to me
You sound lame to me, you mother f***ers cant hang
Real recognize real and you looking like a fake to me
I'm not a critic but what I'm saying is critical
I'm not a lawyer so what I'm saying is literal
It's more than metaphorical, nothing here is rhetorical
I really need an answer 'cause what I'm hearing is pitiful
Rap b***ards selling out for plaques
And telling kids it's all about getting and flipping packs like
Yeah yeah it's all about that white s***
Whatever happened to rapping that real life s***
When you gonna put down the drugs and guns
Pick up a pen and get back to business and killing 'em with the mic
Im Sleazy, f*** classy
Never really been about trying to be flashy
No whips, no chains, no ice, no gold, no h**s, and really got no cash
I been working to make ends meet
Speaking from the heart and you won't hear me embellish it
I'm a grown a** man you won't see me pretending
Every line I write is fire so I reckon I'm devilish
Straight out of Weatherford where money's the devil
And then I came out to Gwinnett where everything is for sale and it's
A damn shame everybody got game
Everybody got change and everybody is famous
F*** that, Im bringing classic back
Where you come up from the bottom and struggle through that sadness
Flip on the mic and hit 'em with that madness
Spit truth, uncut, no padding
I'm a starving artist and I'm hardly started
My hunger is deep but the sea is parting
I don't want a hit of nothing, no lean or marley
I've been working nonstop, no time to party
So whatcha know about that
White boy, clean piss on the track
Saving the game, making a change, and bringing real s*** back
