I’m trying to change this music, my nizzle it’s official
I’m tired of hearing heaters that whistle and sizzle
When gangstas pull out they pistols, I’m like money
Trying to get in the middle and settle the difference

'Cuz too many rappers is tripping, don’t nobody wanna listen?
Plus I’m tired of all the cussing and cursing, so I started rehearsing
Working on converting a better version for every person
That’s hurting lurking searching for life’s purpose feeling suicidal
And worthless but you ain’t certain if you ready to die
And leave this earth’s surface then cross over
And see what’s on the side of this life’s curtain

Call me the Moses of rap, taking it back to tha days
When this artifact wasn’t 'bout the woman and gats
I’m sick of this rap, matter a fact, how many more women you find
To pimp? And gangstas we gonna cap, we murdered them all
Pac and Biggie there ain’t here anymore
Better do something, sound the trumpet, 'cuz I’m goin' to war

To all the playas popping off at the lip, oh
Fronting the street game like you a pimp, no
Ya coming up but going down wit tha ship, bro
Ya better let that thang go

And all tha ladies that be shaking they hips, oh
Up in tha strip clubs stacking em chips, no
Top of tha world, but you down in tha pits, ma
Ya better let that thang go

It’s the Nicaraguan son of Big Pun, who flip tongs
On kick drums and leave rappers like victims from big guns
Better panic, 'cuz I’m charismatic and automatic
When it comes to this phonographic magic, I gotta have it
Like an addict, I’m the magnet pulling these Asiatic
And Hispanics bandits to make 'em put down tha cannons

I’m standing for unity in rural communities filled with darkness
And cruelty, where men get woman paid off of ******
It’s soon to be all over, I crossover barriers of hate and racism
Plus I bring the cross over, I’m out to change all the images

In our villages and all the religious criticisms from church citizens
Always pointing, judging, shrugging ya shoulders at the adulterers
Fornicators, and cobras but never question our culture
Biggie prophesied ready to die, fifty took five
And got rich and Pac’s mama still crying

Suckas surfing the Internet trying to find kids for ***
And placing bets, credit card fraud is next, they write them checks
For chicks on 'em ****o flicks when they shake they hips
Sick wit them chain and whips it gets even worse, truth hurts
Don’t be mad at me, I ain’t the one getting paid enhancing

They anatomy and gradually, they rotten out like bad cavities
Then periodically pros***uting and armed robberies
This how we raise the little children of America to grow up
And be criminal, rapist and bomb terrorist from the second

They’re born innocent but torn between these two world's fighting
For souls like tug a war, who’s keeping score got juveniles
In the morgue, while killas winning awards and steady
And praising the Lord, they cheer and roar, ego tripping has gotta stop
Gotta shine and rhyme in his name instead of hip-hop

How many more of our people gotta die before we decide?
Genocide isn’t only in war, it’s also in the words that we write
We got tha power

I keep it gully like a Cali general running the streets
Ya freeze when I speak, memorized my style is unique
We bringing the heat like the Bahamas talking the word
From Nicaragua to communist countries like China, Iraq
And Havana, canta lo, Godson levanta lo, they lace the beats

Then I rock the flow, she hit them notes, Collab then we rock the show
Think we blessed, no doubt, count the dough, we make about
Oh 25-30 a show, people flying from other countries
Just to hear tha Bone flow sick wit the skills to the point
That they wanna honor me but I’m not honoree
I’m on the rock like Sean Connery and y'all fond of me
The rest is just wanna be’s