I Am Somebody

<a href="http://music.illcity.com/track/i-am-somebody">I Am Somebody by Ill City</a>

Look man, I don’t care who his cousin is. He can get his money right and come pay like everybody else. Otherwise, I ain’t got time. This ain’t free town baby.

Verse One
I used make cheap demos for local cats
Did a couple hot tracks, but most was wack
Used to watch ‘em in the booth, trying to give it they all
They boys was in the sessions, like that’s my dawg
But the worst? them cats who was bringing they girls
Have ‘em sitting on the couch, straight running they mouth
I’m like, yo settle down – read the Vibe or something
Or go get us some food, take a ride or something
Now the best was them cats trying to soak they mail
You know them part-time rappers with the coke for sale
All up in the booth, spilling they guts
I’m like never give ‘em proof, felons get touched
The rest was John Doe’s with 9 to 5s
Never had the bomb flow, just a mind to rhyme
Yo know, blue collar cats, saving their checks
Do an indie release just to get some respect (wait, hold up is that me?)
But I ain’t mad though, get your tracks yo
But don’t coming playing, ’cause this ain’t Hasbro
I got big hits if you got big cash flow
But money get tight – stay at the pad yo

I hear folks saying he gone be somebody
Gone be somebody? Who me somebody?
I am somebody, your man’s somebody
This plan’s not shoddy, better ask somebody

Hook Stack
One day they love me then they change mind
Listen I know, I’m doing me I’ll be just fine (whoa)

Verse Two
I see these young broads trying to go and kid they self
On interviews straight lying what did they self
Talking, we’re all such a fam, y’all live for self
Saying, we did it for the fans, y’all did it for wealth
I ain’t mad, do your thang girl, make the cake
But don’t forget this a game that’s filled with snakes
You get a little too hot, they gone raise the stakes
Go from dinner with the president to paper plates
Had this broad back in Cali, I ain’t really used to date her
But we didn’t a little something on the fader
Little freak used to let her college boyfriend tape her
But she flipped when she got with a major
I guess people change when they get a little paper
It all seems strange, ’cause I never had to chase her
She came down hard when the label went and played her
I double my price, and I saved her

Verse Three
Like them street hustlers, yes I got clusters
Flows that’s too much, them beats you can’t touch
Sometimes I rhyme slow, sometimes I make tracks
I’m hyper and sicker than a broad on crack
I got ‘em tuggin’ at the shrink wrap to get at the disc
That’s right, read all the credits – this as real as it gets
Produced, written, arranged by only the Smith
I pay myself to rhyme, make beats then mix
And when I’m all done with it, I’ma laugh at y’all
You be straight breaking sweat ’till that master’s off
This ain’t full court press playing basketball
This is easy, let me slide a pass to y’all

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