Yo the first born son was a burnt lit star

Certain sounds could just touch my heart

Working hard, and my team still starve

Outchea, for us they pulling new cars on these old rap farts

Top the fools, i'm off these charts

I said, switching pronto, no need to front ho

Used to look at him like that's my uncle

Now it's a shame that I got to hunt you

Bangin' on my own beats, won't need Russell

Young nigga, Running up, snatch and hustle

It's a BK nigga, bouta strap the muscle

If your raps are wack and you lack the bundle

Cause I do it all, young enough to live and see old kings fall

Old enough to keep my force still strong

Throwing the track like a cannon ball

Through your walls, you're gonna hear my call

Certified til I die I'm raw

If I hit the stu, and come back with mo'

I put it in the stores', Platinum fo' sho'

And spend it all on dro like I've done before

If a trap star could, let a trap star grow

I'll flip my dough because that's all I know

24/7 and never ends all ho

.44 let my lungs feel smoke

And I've kept it trill cause that's all we know

That's 47 goonz, made that track with smoke

Niggas on my throats, shooting shows on tours

Leave it to my pros and my young bro Joe

Cause it's not his fault, they putting styles on halt

And my other side glides each line I float

See my mind in my rhymes on boss

Rap rebels of a walking line

They marching even on the front line

When the time comes

Roka keep it loaded if know you better wanna run

[?] Hanging off the tongue, stay spitting hot bullets

Now my whole verse done

Come, Come

Come, Come Now

Who's number one now?

Thought it was a joke

'Til the numbers starting showing up

Dirty want his money right now

And his credit

I deserve my respect for this shit that I imbedded

I am better than them niggas who pretended that they them niggas

Who be lying to them niggas who be buying they shit so

Fuck the government word to my brother man

From the 5th Flo'

Won't get fed if your mouth is closed

That's something he told me

The 47 Og's running it low key

I'm still Dirty and I'm still 7:30

My vision is still blurry so picture perfect ain't really certain

Blind bitch baby, does the cover match them curtains?

Still couldn't block my shine

Chakras divrine like 33rd degree

Fresh 47 embroidery

Pro Era property, no loitering

Can't say my whole team eating yet

But I'm cooking up a mess

Where syringes were pressed: dirty kitchen

I'm spillin' all my kids on her dress, Started living what I'm thinking

Decider, we next stop

Stop and then frisk

Slaughtering pigs anybody can get it

Shooting stars, now make a wish

Rocking skins like the skins we rocking

Powerpuff smoking on that blossom

We're running the game and this shit is exhausting

But I don't give a fuck cause this shit is awesome

4-7

I'm from the Era, where we never show weak niggas love

They phonies, me and the homies holding it up

My only place first shorty never lost

Off the bus in New York, trying to record

Man, you're favorite rapper down the side

Recognize, they don't play with eyes

They an optical allusion like Optimus Prime

Break a rhyme down in the summertime

If I don't separate you and me

I'm acknowledging your truancy

Move like rocket ships, who are we?

Move and sing, Word to my higher Buddha

Seeing through the eyes of Judah

I annihilate a loser

The crown jeweler, Boundary of a Goddess

Not a façade, the Brooklyn niggas is on

Demanding in large, we the men in charge

No progress, it's the Progress

Start spreading love, Gospel

Demanding in large, we the men in charge

No progress, it's the Progress

Start spreading love