Trouble

[Verse 1: Illmaculate]

I was chosen by the Pac fans
I get it open when I'm flowin', they like "Hot damn"
Told you I'm a boss man
You as phony as your watchband
And ain't seen heavy metal since you opened for a rock band
Shot your first gun, hoping that the Glock jammed
Can't resolve your beef, so you're hoping that the cops can
Said you're moving weight, you ain't holding on a lot man
How you moving weight when you smoking outta pop-cans?
Said that you have pounds knowing that you got grams
How you gonna be a soldier with them soft hands?
Try 'n scrap me, throw 'em, they will not land
And since your pride can't be broken then your jaw can
Fists connect like modems with broadband
You know that I got plans 'cause the dough that you got ran
[...] It's thrown in a box fam, you know when it's [?]
The soul is in God's hands

[Verse 2: Illmaculate]

If only the strongest survive, when I'm gone it's a lie
I dedicate this to the time of every artist that tried
The Braveheart of my tribe
Sharpen a knife and carve in the side of my arm
Initials of every artist that died
The markings I scribe darken the sky
And cause rain that doubles the earth's water supply
Scarring your pride, you swear your army'll ride?
The only time you're barging your lives is crossin' your heart when you lie
I breath deep, take oxygen in
I need beef, I feed meat to the monster within
You're knee deep, your beliefs got you again
I see things how they are, you see things with positive spin
Can't touch me with where your hands have probably been
Where mine and money are like a magnet's opposite ends
I got the cockiest grin 'cause you copy my trends
You're not in my skin, I'm a fuckin' god amongst men, yeah