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joell ortiz - 125 part 5 (man i'm...) lyrics

[verse]:
man i’m sick, i’m on my death bed when i blink
sicker than being bit on your wrist by a venomous snake
sicker than guzzling down milk without checkin’ the date
sicker than being locked in a cage with a treacherous ape
sicker than watchin’ moms get high when you 7 or 8
sicker than watchin’ tempers flare when you tellin’ ’em “wait!”
the gun “blam” one of your mans by that yellowish tape
sicker than huggin’ his moms, knowin’ you know who sped up his fate
sicker than a black woman’s -ss with a mexican waist
philippine eyes, indian hair, ms. america’s face
sicker than a heart condition with an irregular rate
sicker than the 60’s comin’ up black in a prejudice state
and still preaching non violence around that negative hate
“i have a dream”
sicker than a lawyer saying “that first offer, you better just take
your story lookin’ so good but the evidence ain’t.”
sicker than lookin’ at time longer than a measuring tape
who’s a beast? i’m a beast, i was born in the belly
i’m a beast and every beat i get on is unfriendly
i’m a beast in the sheets, i get it on in the telly
i’m a beast up in jail, on the h-rn like a celly
i’m a beast in the street, y’all don’t hear the name buzzin’?
i’m a beast in the booth, every session i flame somethin’
i’m a beast in the club, a few bottles it ain’t nothin’
i’m a beast every show and it’s never the same cousin
i’m a beast in the restaurant, every order is tough
i’m a beast when the waitress takin’ too long with my stuff
i’m a beast in the hood, i ring like mike & ike
i’m a beast in the whip, i whip like michael knight
i’m a beast with the mix, i’m swift like iron mike
the old one, not the new one, the new one just like to bite
i’m a beast on the block, i’m there the entire night
i’m a beast and only beasts run into that fire white
who’s a problem? i’m a problem, y’all ain’t solvin’ sh-t
i’m a problem like when the trey pound revolver spit
i’m a problem like a child, mother and fatherless
running away from group homes, not getting far for sh-t
i’m a problem like artists ain’t properly marketed
and the first week got ’em saying “but i worked hard for this.”
i’m a problem like approaching this music sh-t half -ss
i’m a problem like a calculus question in math cl-ss
i’m a problem like being drunk trying to run from the d’s
all out of breath so you decide to hide up under a v
i’m a problem like that dreaded phone call from baby mama
that always starts smooth but ends in that crazy drama
i’m a problem like that rent money due that next day
and garnishment and them n-ggas violated your net pay
i’m a problem like n.y. in the deakin’s era
i’m a problem, more of a problem then you think, forever
who’s the truth? i’m the truth, i ain’t tellin’ no lie
i’m the truth, i’ve been the truth since the 6th of july
19- hold up a second now, don’t tell ’em the year
man, i’m the truth, 25, tryin’ to get the h-ll outta here
i’m the truth like jd really owes me ten
truth be told, i don’t want the drama, i just want my ends
i’m the truth like, yes i still live in my mom’s crib
but i’m the truth, next year we’ll all fit in my mom’s crib
i’m the truth like man hunt, freeze tag and skelly
poison, hot peas and b-tter with no jelly
i’m the truth like, i could go up north for twenty
at 18, but in the streets i can’t purchase a henny
i’m the truth like staring down the barrel of a d.e
in the hands of a fiend that’s shaking and he need d
i’m the truth like the first joint by the boy b.c
i’m the truth and the truth shall set you free
who’s hot? i’m hot, y’all don’t feel the heat?
i’m hotter than that black tar when they fixin’ the street
hotter than a rap star with the fittest physique
hotter than hustlers gettin’ knocked back on the strip in a week
i’m hotter than them top models who stroll the runway
i’m hotter than your grandmom’s kitchen on sunday
i’m hotter than the area where a rhino slept
i’m hotter than every neighborhood’s wino’s breath
i’m hotter than the tires in a high speed chase on a highway
i’m hotter than the first friday
i’m hotter than the cable box you watched it on
in the hood, you let the cable men knock till they gone
i’m hotter than the inside of some real good -ss
i’m hotter than a fiend’s stem on a real good blast
i’m hotter than the first scoop of chinese rice
i’m hotter than a lot of men you think might be nice
who’s nice? i’m nice, y’all ain’t as nice as me
nicer than moms when your report card was covered with e’s
i’m nicer than the way you feel when you f-ckin’ with e
nicer than shawty look in the club when it’s something to 3:00
nicer than the feedback i get when they hear joe flow
nicer than the interior on them new vogue vogues
nicer than what you say to a dog you don’t know
nicer than o. dawg was when he guzzled them old golds
nicer than dirty wrestlers who snuck in a choke hold
nicer than a reflection off a new rolls gold
i’m nicer than new foster parents that first month
nicer than that high you got after you finished your first blunt
i’m nicer than your pockets on pay day
i’m nicer than your first crush when he or she was crushin’ they hay day
i’m nicer than the foot work of the late great pele
nicer than you feel in a war when the enemy is scream “mayday!”
who’s fire? i’m fire, see the fire in my eyes?
i’m more fire than what’s under a drug lords pie
in a remote location where they mix down the fuego
more fire than a few years back down in waco
more fire than you coppin’ tim’s
pair of fatigues, rough hoodie over the fitted and you drop the brim
more fire than this joint that i rock with gin
more fire than what it took to drop the twins
more fire than a dope spot, constantly in and out
more fire than what an active volcano be spittin’ out
more fire than sleep, droppin’ a cigarette in the couch
i’m more fire than what come out the front of godzilla mouth
more fire than a drag racer car when it drives off
more fire than what be in the sky on july 4th
more fire than a service would have a on a red star
more fire than a p-ss from the arm of brett farve
who’s hard? i’m hard, y’all ain’t as hard as me
i’m harder than what it was comin’ up in poverty
harder than playin’ numbers once and hittin’ lottery
harder than pullin’ off a dead president’s robbery
harder than it is to pick up a mic and just rhyme
in front of thousands, harder than guarding mike in his prime
i’m harder than my fist gets when you make me mad
harder than…listen sanaa lathan’s bad
i’m harder than the concrete under my kicks
it’s harder than the time you’ll have tryin’ to scoop one of my chicks
i’m harder than rappin’, havin’ to listen to this
i’m harder than anybody but me tryin’ to finish a brick
joell ortiz

- joell ortiz lyrics

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