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where y'all at? - 20means lyrics

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now
i need a head count on the amount of anybody who can f*ck with the kid from the south
north, west coast, east, where y’all at?
cackalacka jumping on the map, better get your bungee as a matter of fact
real rap, i ain’t faking and sh*t
it’s hard to keep the faith when the whole nation is complacent and sh*t
the old heads hate my statements and sh*t
and young guns don’t pay attention cause my diction ain’t relating to them
it’s aggravating when you don’t know how to balance it yo
hard to change when motivation is low
trying to spit the most dope, no choke joke sh*t
like 19 7*0 my coke hit
and even if my words start coming out slow
i’ll still push snow & spit a quick van gogh
a conversation with the system said i ain’t gon’ blow like jay electro with the knowledge & flow
so, here we go
no bro’s, more hoes, no goals, more gold, new pole, sold souls
if i had a dollar for every rapper that strike a pose, i’d have enough for the funeral cost when i expose all these n*ggas talking ’bout they got .45 triggers, 6*7 figures, and they all bang out the window
how the f*ck the game get f*cked up by pretenders
used to be about the lyrics, now we focus on the image
so if i never make some percentages off my words
and the congregation of rap relations hit me with slurs
leave my greatness and dead prez faces up on the curb
and the game leave my name and fame up in a blur
like “dang yo, i really miss that n*gga named nate yo, he made a change, a god d*mn shame they pulled the pistol, but r.i.p to him though”
i’ll tell you “good joke” ‘cause ain’t no stopping me
20means a motherf*ckin’ prophecy!

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