In my mind I'm a fighter, my hearts a lighter
My soul is the fluid, my flow sparks it brighter
But arsenic writer, often with arth-er-itis
Carpel-tunnel, Marshal with start ****-itis
Hard-headed and hot-headed
Bull-headed and pig-headed
Dick-headed a brick, a big headache I'm sick
Quick with it for every lyric spit it
There are 6 critics who wait, for me to slip with it
So quit this dynamite stick, bury the wick
Its gonna ex-plode any minute, someone will tick
Lit it and its not Nelly, do not tell me to stop yelling
When I stop selling ill quit so, stop dwelling
I am not failing, you ******* are not ready
Cuz I got jelly, like (jizzin?) on your pot belly
This is destiny, yes money
I'm off running, so get off of me
I'm not slowing or softening