158 Lewis Avenue between Lafayette and Van Buren, that was back durin days of hangin' on my bed-stuy block

Plenty poisoned minds of the people are ours. Slaves, from mental death.

Control what I hold and of course be the boss of myself, no-one else will bring my wealth.

I relieve rappers just like Tylenol

Your so bitter, like kitty litter.

To feed ten mouths, she had to call on Mr. Welfare.

I don't remember saying nothing about me crossing over. I did R&B collaborations but I never tried to do no pop stuff.