Draft Day

Draft Day, mine’s like Lebron James

Draft Day, me and you don’t do the same things

Even though we hang with some of the same people, we ain’t never equal

If my life is a movie, there’s no plans for a sequel

I have plans to be regal, you tryna kill my dreams should be illegal

If life’s a movie, I’m Will Smith, you’re Steven Segal

I craft blockbusters, some of my family is block lovers

I make major moves, others continue to make blunders

Used to think that people loved us, used to think they could be trusted

Now my trust is like your bracket, fucking busted.

Still remain cool in public, still remain anti-puppet

Which means someone else is pulling your strings or something

We all want trophies, championship rings or something.

But some people think I’m just selling dreams or something

I used to want to kick it like Fifa, earn stripes like adidas

Having people do what I say like Simon says, follow the leader

Your time is running out, didn’t you check the meter?

Everybody has to retire, you can even ask Derek Jeter

Life’s a marathon, not a sprint, we aren’t running the 100 meters

They say I lost my mind and now they’re playing finders keepers

I’m still on my grind like skateboards, here’s what I pray for

That I get my piece of the pie so I don’t have to forcefully take yours

The dream comes for free, the hustle is sold separately

Trying to cook up success, I hope I have the right recipe

Everything rests on me, people still testing me

I guess they’re envious on how God is blessing me

If I were you I wouldn’t mess with me? I could be considered psycho

My circle is tighter than a fat person’s stomach after lipo

Ain’t no telling where I might go, tell me where the hype goes

And when she say she missed her period, you better hope she talking typos

Or else you paying for tyco, for all the pampers and all the bottles

Money going towards Barbie Dolls instead of taking out models

Never consider me ungrateful, this game is unfaithful.

People watch you build success then they say that they made you

Oh is that the case? Well excuse the hell out of me

But I’m a self-made man with intervention that’s heavenly

Telling my haters rest in peace, I know prosperity is killing ‘em

Used to not want the boy, now some of these ladies is feeling ‘em

There’s a fine line between waiting for opportunities and stealing ‘em

And I’m standing right on it while everyone else is middling

That’s code for mediocre, something doesn’t smell right like you’re cooking okra

I am the manifestation of what Martin Luther hoped for.

With a little Malcolm X, can’t wait to go cash these checks

Am I a little arrogant? I wouldn’t be if y’all just gave me respect

This isn’t a victory lap because celebrating is premature

This just is reflection on how I’m still running up the score

No more Mr. Nice Guy, these people shallow like pop flies

Meanwhile I’m talking slick like olive oil, call in Popeye.

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