☆ One+Piece+Soundtrack-+Angry

I wanna be the best who ever did it
Dont know if that goal is feasible, or it isnt
But if it is thank God, if youre listenin
Please give me the strength to crush
all competition
You cant blame me for dreaming,
Im a dreamer
and if Im coming off brash please forgive me
But, thats all I want

I just wanna be the illest MC (Thats all I want)
The same time being as real as can be
Mayhem, sickness, murder, horror
These are the kind of words
that describe my aura
G Rap, Ras Kass, Kurupt
Redman I am cut from that cloth
Write a rhyme about me, you a dead man
Cool J, Im Bad video
Learn the whole routine
and perform it for my fathers friends
While they smoked and drank Symphony,
D.O.C. inspired me to write what
Would eventually put me on airplanes like B.o.B
Canibus, Wu-Tang,
you know our history but hats off
When we rap this Jack Frost
we outline the track chalk
Thank God for the one-two cadence
Thank God for the lunchroom tables
Im trying to be the sickest n-gga, dead or alive
And if I happen to fall short,
its been one hell of a ride
Chronic 1 and 2,
looking up at the sky at the sun
Up until the day the sun is you
You listening to hip-hop, you in Jays house
Waynes house, Nas house
Ems house, Our House

So welcome, to our house
Where no one, comes back out
You wont find, comfort
In here, in here, in here

When I was a little boy I wanted to be a rapper
Wanted to be on the radio
and snapping pictures after
And so I grabbed my pen and pad
and scribbled chitter chatter
It started off whack
But in the words of a ten year old,
my shit was getting phatter
I hit the studio at 16, stupid ill
Not knowing how the booth would feel,
whats ADATs and two inch reel
How you ad-lib?
Whats a punch? I aint a boxer
But I sure enough learned the ropes,
look D and Mike you made a monster
Now everydays a game of Contra,
I got 99 men
An infinite amount of rounds
inside this mighty fine pen
This is my dream, dont fuck
with it, Im telling you
Cause anyone can get dusted
as long as production is available
Im disgusted as a fan,
look how n-ggas sounding, damn
Weak head, yall suck bad, fuck swag
and your kicks from South Japan
Im finna to be the best in this profession
Ive been invested all my life,
so wipe your feet before you step in
Our house

So welcome, to our house
Where no one, comes back out
You wont find, comfort
In here, in here, in here

I just wanna be the illest MC
The same time being as real as can be

Yo, in my house, the lights out
No utilities in the facilities
Feeling my lifes bout, to wipe out
These feelings Im feeling be killing me
I pull the mic out, cant strike out
Cause if winning is really my enemy
I pull a nine out, blow my mind out
Is the end of me really serenity?
Man in my house, its rap or die
Get a piece of that apple pie
Life is a Pharcyde song,
and that bitch just passes by
So I, got lyrically complex,
that way I could clock checks
Get my moms out the projects,
with these concepts,
competition cant digest
And then I stress cause the road is rough
I start feeling like shits sour
The electricity in my will power,
could still power, the twin towers
For ten hours so send cowards
The message from Crooked I
Royce Da 5, Joe Budden, Em Yaowa

In our, house we spit like Sig Sauers
The way I feel now I could spit for six hours
Straight, only way to be great, is to dig down,
if you can hear this sound in
Side my head sounds like a fucking drive-by
Thats what the inside of my minds like
Looking back on, my career even,
hindsights, tunnel vision, 5 mics
Never wanted that so bad well I got-ta go mad
Nomad with a notepad
Go Taz, spaz on these ho bags
That bother me, but I never wanna show that
Just dont act like it ever does
Even though you know that there will never come
A day someone blows past
you, never wasSomeone whos as dope as
you ever was And you hope thats,
true cause the competitor in you
Couldnt let someone be better than you
And you know that, so you dont ever hold back
What you gonna go back,
to working a regular job? Fuck that,

Im gonna go hard grab on my, gonads
Tell them fuck theyselves
They call me a wigger like Renee Zell
But I raised hell like a stay-at-home dad
Rap is the only thing that I was ever really,
bad to the bone at
Guess Im similar to, gangrene when Im,
angry then Im
Hulk Smash, so much passion
but no compassion
If eyes are the windows to the soul
Then its, broken glass
and theres no trespassing
Alright now here we go
Dre stamped me now Im stamping
Yelawolf be ready for the most competitive
Clique in the world its like Clash Of The Titans
Im releasing the cracker its time to set it again
And when its said and its all done
None shall fuck with this squadron
So come on in, at your own risk
This is (Our House) Bitch! Explain