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• Artiste: Statik Selektah
• Titre: In The Pocket
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Check, check, check, check, yeah (Statik Selektah) You can turn my mic up Yeah Oh, you can turn it up some more so I can really hear it A little more Ayo, king of the hill, bitch, I'm Bobby Hill People hate but I still write all the shit I feel Like a game of eight ball, it's only one intention Two faced hustlers like two countries that's in contention Off the track like three tires [?] suspension For your eyes only like a pair of bifocals But y'all don't feel me like a quad, I'm going postal Five second 'til I say something anti-social (Five, four, three, two, one) Fuck people, I hate 'em Extrovert and introvert that's paid to public speak Minimum, that's six figures, I do three speeches a week Made seven figures in a day, that's not all I save the eight for last, I'm in the pocket like a nine ball Another rhyme for y'all First picked up the pen when I was ten When my step-daddy went to the pen First time I held my first (censored) was at eleven Curfew was twelve, running with shorties that was thirteen My older brother fourteen on the corner, he serving fiends Fifteen bullets sprayed in the drive-by as children run wide-eyed Some get hit and when they do they fall My lyricism goes straight to your dome like it's an eight ball I stay with scratch but never in the pocket My flow is always in the pocket Statik (One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten)