Trouble

[Verse 1: Illmaculate] I was chosen by the Pac fans I get it open when I'm flowin', they like "Hot damn" Told you I'm a boss man You as phony as your watchband And ain't seen heavy metal since you opened for a rock band Shot your first gun, hoping that the Glock jammed Can't resolve your beef, so you're hoping that the cops can Said you're moving weight, you ain't holding on a lot man How you moving weight when you smoking outta pop-cans? Said that you have pounds knowing that you got grams How you gonna be a soldier with them soft hands? Try 'n scrap me, throw 'em, they will not land And since your pride can't be broken then your jaw can Fists connect like modems with broadband You know that I got plans cause the dough that you got ran [...] It's thrown in a box fam, you know when it's [?] The soul is in God's hands [Verse 2: Illmaculate] If only the strongest survive, when I'm gone it's a lie I dedicate this to the time of every artist that tried The Braveheart of my tribe Sharpen a knife and carve in the side of my arm Initials of every artist that died The markings I scribe darken the sky And cause rain that doubles the earth's water supply Scarring your pride, you swear your army'll ride? The only time you're barging your lives is crossin' your heart when you lie I breath deep, take oxygen in I need beef, I feed meat to the monster within You're knee deep, your beliefs got you again I see things how they are, you see things with positive spin Can't touch me with where your hands have probably been Where mine and money are like a magnet's opposite ends I got the cockiest grin cause you copy my trends You're not in my skin, I'm a fuckin' god amongst men, yeah