I am the native son,
I've got the naked tongue,
I'm gonna be the one
To show you how it's done.
Don't hate the player,
Just hate the context,
Hate the prayer
And gate up the complex.
A few more years,
A few more dollars,
A few more pills,
A few more collars.
The doctor says
I can only get taller,
But my teacher says
That my brain gets smaller.
This **** is new ****,
Spit the new spit,
Flick the new tip,
Stick that new flip.
Get your wheels,
Get your engine, get laid,
Get the profit,
The paper, get paid.
Don't wait around
And see all the dreams fade,
Don't let the banker
Take all that you made.
Don't say nothing,
Just try and let go,
Just try to make peace,
And flow with my flow.
They're ain't enough beats
To make enough dough,
They're ain't enough streets
For all of these **'s.

The line in the sand,
That you made with your hand.
There's a line in the sand,
So where do I stand?

The line in the sand,
That you made with your hand.
There's a line in the sand,
So where do I stand?