My rap game on supreme,

My rap game on supreme, feeling Heavenly sent but bustas still in the game fucking up ruining my name throwing dirt thinking its gonna fuck my head put me to some kind of shame grew up hood always down and up to no good, plotting thinking I maybe just should, I try Ive spent times lying, time crying, all added up to my success my time in the Light the shinning, came up out the grimmy cracks and crevises of the streets, mob 1000 stay real talking while the haters watching taunting so I send them a warning shot, you and I both know Im the King, show um flash my style my chain my championship rings, I rap I dont sing, ball so hard the whole team shinning and gleaming, now my name ringing bells, please yall nobody tell, Lol came from sale after sale preying for bail hoping asking for pics through the mail, from kids on the play ground to dope and guns we found made noise, seen cold cells now our music coming out the speakers and just think they called us lost broke, smoked or tweakers, ahhy school and science taught us had us fucking with beakers, mixed the treeble increased the bass and perfected and mastered my raps my speach, relax let up on a dogs leash might have time to brush my million dollar mouth peiece or delay,  childs play  but hate or love me the whole world gonna be listening up rewinding and studying my vocabulary my word plays, the real stayed real even when it came down to my last bill, now my rap my words paid shinning, bitch ugly saying she dimond, bitch lying, again lord save um they must not remember who made um raised um, my swag style be taylored the game I was made for, back in our lazy boy crazy cold hearted the streets the hood born raised a G, everything in the bags my pants fashow sagg, no smiles all frowns pack some ski masks and gloves, first gat owned was a smith and wesson snub, nothing but love in the club, mamma fucked up slurring lureering must be from the drank and the drugs,you gonna love us doe we real hitters cant miss us who the fuck dissed us, with my .45 run up gun up stay down from the night till the sun up, gods son so fashow you know he riding with us, see them bullets missed us, didnt even clip us, no wittnesses, back to the block and to think from nothing to something from dirty to dimonds from doing time to sitting round rapping and rhyming,