Hi-hat, hi-hat, hi-hat, hi-hat Kick, kick, kick, clap, kick, clap Kick, clap, shaker, shaker I used to live on Broke Avenue, Now I'm moving towards middle class. Pussy galore now, Used to catch little ass. They always told me: "Yo this rap thing, it'll pass." Now it brings me cash And people want my autograph. I know I ought to laugh, But yo I take it serious. I mean years from now I still want people to be hearing this. In it for the fame? Huh, you delirious? Look at this wack industry And how queer it is. MC's acting like girls, Talking 'bout jewelry. Fashion-statements, with no Tom foolery. Is this industry fooling me Or schooling me that I need to be Something I don't really need to be? See I'm like LL Cool J in the eighties, Respect from the hiphop fans And love from the ladies. It's probably Because I treat songs like babies. I birth them, then nurse them Through every new verse mand, man. And that's how it goes Everytime I hear a rhythm I just start to flow.