A Rapper Named Nati - The Sixteenth Minute

Back in high school, I went to school high
Finally graduated to a new life
Now I'm in the shade, sittin' poolside
Yeah, they're throwin' shade, but I'm too bright
I used to leave my problems with the booth mic
Or in the ashtray, but for the last eight
I ain't have a way to cope. Didn't have a ray of hope
Just a black cloud, watchin' the rain approach
Leviathan, Goliath wins 'till David throws
The Stone. Cut your head off and claim the throne
Maybe I'm jaded but fame is so lame and overrated
Save your soul, you got a ways to go
I'm tryna lead the league, make you rookies flee
I'm tryna be the king like Booker T
You don't wanna get stuck where you shouldn't be
I don't wanna end up like Pusha T
Over 40 in some beef for publicity.
These are magazines, not Clipse, capisce?
And I don't mean the type of mags that your kids can read
Listen, please. I got shooters like Pistol Pete
I'm tryna get this ring, Bill Russell - '63
Oh, you still hustle? You must be flippin' keys
I'm tryin' to build muscle, no Creatine
Flip like a gymnast, spit like I'm missin' teeth
Gold chains for the click like Mr. T
But you are not the A-Team, you're a different team
We're not even the same league, you're little league
They're tryin' to wind me up. But I don't pitch relief
I paint vivid scenes like Van Gogh
Even your bitch can see and your mans know
Whether I spit sixteen or spit for sixteen minutes
I hope I get to see my sixteenth minute
When in doubt, breath in and let it out
If I ain't the best out, at least I'm better now
I gotta make sure that the check ain't bounce
I really gotta make the next decade count

Bae
What cha doin? Where ya at? Who ya with?
Quit playin' with me
I'm behind your house right now
I love you and miss you and need you
I need some of that domestic violence pussy
Hit me up
I love you

Written by:
Gerald Owen

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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