[Maestro Fresh Wes]
First I learn to crawl, then I learn to walk
Then I learn to talk, then I learn to rhyme
Suckers try to hock my lines
But I'mma serve ya
On the microphone I murder
Killing chump rappers
Since the days of eating Gerber's baby food
The crazy dude with the pablum, the bad one
I grab the mic just like a Magnum
Fly girls was jiggling, clinging to my ding-a-ling
Wes, you was hitting skins as a baby
Yeah true but I was fingering
Yeah, check out shorty in the diapers
They're some big motherfuckers rhyming at the ciphers
Grown-ups knew that I be wealthy
They used to say
"that baby boy gots talent, but his mouth is so filthy"
I worte creazy rhymes to the beat
Had the, freedom of speach
But I still couldn't reach, the tall glass of milk
On the table, my lyrics were stable
But still I wasn't able to get it
I didn't sweat it, I paid it no mind
I wrote another fat rhyme at the drop of a dime
Now I'm hoping for the day to come
So I can hear my Dukes say, "Wesley you son of a gun"
CHORUS X2
[Maestro Fresh Wes]
No time for chilling black
I wrote a killa rap, made an illa track
Knocking back the similack
Graduated from the formula, I had a scheme
Milk was calling me, just like the pipe to a fiend
But still I had to play cool, couldn't play a fool
So many MCs, are dropping out of pre-school
To get a record deal, forget it gotta hustle
Yo yo yo, how did money fall off?
Got lost in the shuffle
