| It’s BLS from the west I’ve Lost Angeles |
| Tryna' find my way back but the map was made of cannabis |
| Better hurry up and find another way to handle this |
| Burned every tree now there’s none to hang my hammock with |
| Hey — tryna' patch up all my damages |
| Staggered through the madness |
| Throwing hatchets at the manuscripts |
| Of every maggot on the planet tryna' rap and spit |
| I’d cop your album but I’d rather eat a bag of shit |
| Smoke a spliff that’s been dipped in the madness |
| And take a step on your neck and get it crackin' bitch |
| It’s B-L-S Brandon Bless but he’s hazardous |
| As tobacco is to mammals |
| He’s standing in a buffalo flannel in Amsterdam-Ales |
| Couldn’t find a candle to handle up as I channel this |
| Granted now the fandom abandoning all the analysts |
| Turned every critic into advocating panelists |
| No more time for the trash talk |
| Put your eyes on the black hawk |
| See the prize that I grasped on |
| I was born at the height of the rap storm |
| Now I smack on the back the baby’s reborn |
| On a road I met some detours |
| But I always kept my feet forward |
| All I need is a drum beat to seek toward |
| And keep my heart in my head |
| Swinging back and forth like a see-saw |
| Been living life like I’m falling down a freefall |
| Handful of dice who want to write like they really raw |
| I bet it all I be the nigga that will win it all |
| Sendin em' the venom that was hidden in my rhythm y’all |
| Hey — I was born with game |
| And I grew over time |
| And the form would change |
| But the core still remained the same |
| Now I’m 23 with buckets of change |
| In the court like when Jordan came |
| With the dunk from the free throw lane |
| Now all I need is the five-finger ring read 'KING' |
| And a catalog of classics that we can bang |
| Then I’m mapping out the atlas that leads the way |
| Hey — We don’t play |
| What was blessed with game |
| So respect the name |
| Shahmen |