[Verse 1: Masta Ace]
I'mma tell you one last time in one last rhyme
And listen closely, cause if my name was Josie
A lot of you pussy cats would be out of the game
Regardless of fame, because I hear a lot of the same
It's not impressive, y'all should be more aggressive
You're too passive. And the rap game is too massive
For niggas to be standing around, trying to be him
Rapping about the same old Benz and BM
Look - I know the way. You can't win as a protege
So throw the crocodile shoes and mink coat away
And come back with flows sharp as a thumbtack
I bump that. In my pickup with the gun rack
Driving down the middle of 95, I be live
Hoping that my song get a buzz like a beehive
I experience heavy breathing regardless of the season for one reason
Hip Hop's full of treason, I'm leaving, yo
[Hook: Masta Ace]
It don't matter how many you sold
Platinum or Gold, hot or cold, yo (Last Bref)
Yall can keep on nappin but if you're out there rappin
It will happen, yo (Last Bref)
It's like death and taxes
You can't get by it, so don't try it yo (Last Bref)
You won't know it's your last left...your last breath
[Verse 2: Masta Ace]
I got a sick caper, smoother than Vick's Vapor
I can break you fast as a nigga that tricks paper
My main focus and purpose is to make sure nobody jerk us
Cause the rap game right now is a circus
I honestly hate rappers, most of them great actors
With songs that couldn't turn me on with eight clappers
And the saddest thing is platinum status is king
If you got the sickest watch, or the baddest ring
You're hotter than three cops in a weed spot with three Glocks
And a search warrant - they thirst for it
I'm a sad soul, probably rap til I'm mad old
And sound worse than D.O.C. with a bad cold
I'll sit in my rocker and freestyle for my doctor
Stand up and shock ya with hella flows like a copter
I'll show a young whipper snapper rapper I'm greater
And then have to rest later, on a respirator, yo
[Hook]
[Verse 3: Masta Ace]
In the game of rap, there'll be none of that coming back
As soon as a nigga drops the ball like a running back
It's over, you could do a song with Jay Hova
Get DMX to sing the hook, nigga look
It happened to the best and it's gone happen to the rest
So I hope you don't think you're immune to the same doom
We can be in two different states or the same room
It don't matter - I'mma hear your career shatter
I personally know a few, tried to show a few
That got back in the ring to try to go a few
It ain't the same, believe me, it ain't the name
It's not the label, you could do a show on cable
You could go to the Source Awards
And pay the Ku Klux a few bucks to drag you around in a blue truck
And rap fans'll walk on by when you're past death and laid out
And just finished taking your last breath yo
[Hook]
I'mma tell you one last time in one last rhyme
And listen closely, cause if my name was Josie
A lot of you pussy cats would be out of the game
Regardless of fame, because I hear a lot of the same
It's not impressive, y'all should be more aggressive
You're too passive. And the rap game is too massive
For niggas to be standing around, trying to be him
Rapping about the same old Benz and BM
Look - I know the way. You can't win as a protege
So throw the crocodile shoes and mink coat away
And come back with flows sharp as a thumbtack
I bump that. In my pickup with the gun rack
Driving down the middle of 95, I be live
Hoping that my song get a buzz like a beehive
I experience heavy breathing regardless of the season for one reason
Hip Hop's full of treason, I'm leaving, yo
[Hook: Masta Ace]
It don't matter how many you sold
Platinum or Gold, hot or cold, yo (Last Bref)
Yall can keep on nappin but if you're out there rappin
It will happen, yo (Last Bref)
It's like death and taxes
You can't get by it, so don't try it yo (Last Bref)
You won't know it's your last left...your last breath
[Verse 2: Masta Ace]
I got a sick caper, smoother than Vick's Vapor
I can break you fast as a nigga that tricks paper
My main focus and purpose is to make sure nobody jerk us
Cause the rap game right now is a circus
I honestly hate rappers, most of them great actors
With songs that couldn't turn me on with eight clappers
And the saddest thing is platinum status is king
If you got the sickest watch, or the baddest ring
You're hotter than three cops in a weed spot with three Glocks
And a search warrant - they thirst for it
I'm a sad soul, probably rap til I'm mad old
And sound worse than D.O.C. with a bad cold
I'll sit in my rocker and freestyle for my doctor
Stand up and shock ya with hella flows like a copter
I'll show a young whipper snapper rapper I'm greater
And then have to rest later, on a respirator, yo
[Hook]
[Verse 3: Masta Ace]
In the game of rap, there'll be none of that coming back
As soon as a nigga drops the ball like a running back
It's over, you could do a song with Jay Hova
Get DMX to sing the hook, nigga look
It happened to the best and it's gone happen to the rest
So I hope you don't think you're immune to the same doom
We can be in two different states or the same room
It don't matter - I'mma hear your career shatter
I personally know a few, tried to show a few
That got back in the ring to try to go a few
It ain't the same, believe me, it ain't the name
It's not the label, you could do a show on cable
You could go to the Source Awards
And pay the Ku Klux a few bucks to drag you around in a blue truck
And rap fans'll walk on by when you're past death and laid out
And just finished taking your last breath yo
[Hook]
( Masta Ace )
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