In the 'hood, tryna make it out
So what the fuck they mad 'bout?
Rappers in my city don't want me to make a route
Jackers gon' jack so I'm prepared to take 'em out
Baby's on the way and I ain't got a dime
Just a chopper to my name and these books of rhymes
All alone in the room with this crooked mind
Watchin' rappers videos, knowin' I can take they shine
Calm, tell me be patient, just take my time
I've been strugglin' too long, now I'm takin' mine
What good is bein' hot if ain't nobody notice
That in a room full of rappers I'm the fucking coldest?
...tells me some things I don't wanna know
And I can't...
Tells me some things I don't wanna know
I'm the fucking coldest
No, I can't...
Mind over matter but the matter is
The fact that we live with no time to give
Our fam', we throwin' money at our kids
They be starvin' for knowledge and I can see they ribs
No ambition for college, they sittin' at the crib
Sellin' drugs, probably be the next gettin' killed
On the block, it's 30 more just like 'em
I don't pawn 'til those crackers come and re-indict 'em
Chain smokin' blunts, now they searchin' for a title
That you earn in the 'hood cause you shot a rifle
Guns make niggas feel tall like the Eiffel
'Til somebody shoot 'em down and they body stifle
Fuck a magazine, you need to read the Bible
But the preacher steal money for his own survival
Or maybe I'm just taking notice
That in a room full of rappers, I'm the fuckin' coldest