Charles Hamilton
Presidential Pondering
Yo if I said it then I don't regret it
Every is copacetic, flow poetic
Ahead of my time cause I'm so prophetic
And I hope you let it sink through your dome piece
Jerome be out of touch, but we still homies
I said that in another song
And just because you did a couple of good deeds don't mean do a couple wrong
Got my buckle on, cause it's a rough ride of life
The fight, make sure that your knuckles strong
Got my scuffle on, it's only natural
But nowadays n***as 13 trying to clap with you
You ain't a rapper, you more like an actor
Who smile in my face, but talk shit like them clackers do
And it's a fact that dude been through a lot of shit
No politics in college yet I promise get my product is
Hotter than a lot of shit they telling you gotta get
And I don't give a fuck, I went away on a scholarship
I'm not legit, why, cause I want to get my education
Trying to get my family out the ghetto, see some better days in
Show love instead of hating
Cause in the end it ain't about who make the cake the fastest
But whose is better tasting
This shit was devastating, could you imagine
Your brother 21 on a stretcher taking medication
And while you meditating, his soul is levitating
That's why I need them Dead Presidents to represent me
They say, Charles don't let the industry change you
The fuck I'm supposed to be, the industry angel
I look at life from an industry angle
Now hang around, peep the shit I say to you
N***as know that's there's a million n***as better
Moving cribs to get the cheddar
How they feel is even better than the shit that be appealing to the masses
So when you make it, it's the ceiling with your glasses
Ask if n***as give a fuck if your bars is tough
Cause n***as is hating hard as fuck
The whole is Star and Buc
Where only superstars get bucks
And as far as us, we're scarred and touched by all the rough
Points, we point them out in the music
But we bring change man without the pollution
I ain't mad at the South, I'm mad at the mouths
Of these n***as, fuck y'all n***as rappin bout
N***a, I'll admit I don't have a straight bottom line
But if I don't rhyme, I could die out of my mind
I don't rap, I just blog on beat
Harlem all on me, while I walk along in the street
IPod on peak, I'm a goddong beast
Playing my shit, I sing along on key
N***as stop me, yo Charles you back in the hood?
Either they happy or wish I was back here for good
Which is actually good, cause I act like I'm Suge
You know my name, n***as don't touch me though they act like they could
I'm a n***a, and you're the same shit
What a shame, I'm in the same league as Hurricane Chris
Young n***a with a catchy ass single
Something that comes across as a happy ass jingle
But I'm a sarcastic-ass spastic, cracking tracks in half, smacking all rappers
They crackerjacking, I'm an attacking ass bingle
What type of snack is that, n***a give me a state
I ain't on the level of legends, n***a give me a break
A straight killa, J Dilla if you give me a break
Can't stop, give me a break
I won't sit and just wait
20 y-o, not Janet
This n***a is great, you be spitting away
Shit is ok, but I kill 80 n***as a day when I break
I be spitting away
My fucking album is me digging a grave
Hip-Hop died, admit it, make a difference, get paid
It's all a fucking auction
20 thousand for the man in the pink polo
Going once, going twice, oh no he got it made
N***as is mad cause they sold soul
Then they flop, mf's barely sold gold
Pawning they rose gold for a fucking bag of Rold Gold
And I'm the one making chips
And I fucked up in the verse
Doesn't even matter n***as get the point
Charles Hamilton. Fedel. Demevolist, you already know