Straight outta Jersey, With smoker lungs and some bad regrets…
Carry stress, With a golden noose wrapped around my neck.
Truth be told, I know less Hov, Than K-R-S.
And when most heads went Right, I always made a left.
S-O-L-O, bad little fellow.
With a Crown Royal sack, and some hollowed out cigarillos.
Give me 16 bars, I smash instrumentals.
Leave a muthafucka hating me based off of my credentials.
Freehand the shit that y'all can't stencil.
You sprung up off some hype beast shit, Im the essential.
Ive Torn it down, From Packed Music Halls to Residential.
Earned respect from the Hood and love from Teeny Bopper Venues.
Im the anomaly, Why they straying me probably.
Shook… like Imma take the game back by armed robbery.
Cant even front. The shit crossed through my mind before.
Grab a ski mask, And hit up the Labels… Its War.
You ask me if my worlds turned on… 2x
Fuck if Im top 5 dead or alive,
I hold the mic like a memory and sever the ties.
Every verse is just a metaphor, My lifes on the line.
I just hoping someone will catch me, When I finally dive.
Blasting at will, The wrath of which will add the appeal…
Cuz this state of minds so fucked up, They know that its real.
I've pissed off labels with lint in my pockets and stole meals.
From multi-platnum artists, on my opening reel.
Ive Been creeping on a come up, Since slang was Keep it 100.
And the Top 10 could rap total circles round who you fuck with.
Fuck what you publish, We aint in the same league…
Im a fully pressed novel, your shit is an easy read.
Plotting to bang beats, Hold corners like Dwane Reade.
Direct to the People, Till Corperations Impeached.
Games full of rats, Who foaming from out the teeth.
At least this knife in my back, Is kept within easy reach.
You ask me if my worlds turned on… 2x
This dedicated to the single mothers, Every man whose ever claimed to love her…
And all they badass kids, Seeing a sibling coming…
Death or Glory, Ill roll with one or the other.
The bastard Son of Sam, Thats suspended for throwing punches.
I couldn't give a fuck if, you know my verses verbatim.
Im just spilling up my guts up, and hoping you're gunna save em'
Never had a shot at the normal, So I'm complacent.
In the shady garden state, where the garden snake is forsaken.
Now every bodies got they muthafucking hands out…
Like I owe em big… Like I crept from out the bad route.
Bitch Im still praying for the day to find my own house.
Cuz when I lay it down, I gotta keep her with a gagged mouth.
CASH RULES… Descendant of a bad breed.
Garden full of Eden, And Eve is snorting a Ty 3s.
If I had a milli, Don't know where fuck you'd find me…
Except ducking from the Feds… Cuz Taxes aint getting by me.
You ask me if my worlds turned on… 2x
credits
from BACK TO BASICS [EP] (2014),
track released August 17, 2013
Written, Recorded & Mixed By : Solo For Dolo
Produced By : Don Producci
Recorded at the rapper's Brooklyn apartment during lockdown, this album offers poignant reflections on the uncertain decisions defining the uncharted territory of today's reality. Bandcamp Album of the Day Jul 21, 2020
