Fuck Yo Market Cap Motherfuckers. You think you going to make me crumble? You think you gonna see me fly to Africa like Chappelle did when he discovered the sickness? You think you gonna see me making panicked youtube videos like Bonacci did when you tried to hold a brother down? You think you gonna see me screaming “They Trying to Kill me” like You had Martin Lawrence doing. Hell No. Im firmly seated in the place that Jacob named. You’ll sooner see me get Big and go Vegan like DISL Automatic did. You’ll sooner see me put war paint on my face and start singing “Heya Hoa Heya Hoa” like Alais Clay do.
It’s been a straight bankster bash ever since the advent of gangster rap. But you don’t know what time it is. That’s because you’ve been looking at those gold Rolexes. Time to check your Astrolabes. You’re going to find it’s saying Wakey Wakey Time. It’s Justice Time. It’s Wisdom Time. It’s Liberty Time. It’s Unity Time. It’s Novelty Time. You can’t distract or derail me with your material consumption or over sexualised women. But that don’t mean that every day I don’t yearn to see a whole lot more Sharon Stone. And I ain’t got no time or patience for serpents. Aside from this Cobra. Right here on my forehead. Fuck Yo Market Cap motherfuckers. We here. We got something to say. And I think you’re going to find. We have every intention of saying it.