"Another day up in these labels of rap
And you're a battle MC, who swears that your style is fragrantly fat
Can't wait to hit the studio, disabling tracks
So everyone could hear your shit on turntables and DAT's
You put your single out, so now you're laying it back
'Cause everybody's screaming, "Yo son, your name's on the map!"
But prior to all the props and the street buzz
Nobody in your neighborhood could give a fuck who you was
Because they don't love you, they love what you stand for
The car you drive and the loot you got your hands on
That shit could end in a minute, any minute
And your driveway won't have all them Bentleys in it"