[Hook]
I put the work in like number 23
Grew the fruits of my labor from a money tree
Made my business my pleasure so it’s fun to me
I keep the faith and I leave the hate under me
I put the work in like number 23
Grew the fruits of my labor from a money tree
Made my business my pleasure so it’s fun to me
I keep the faith and I leave the hate under me

Watch me elevate my game to the highest level
I’m leavin’ full speed ahead foot on the pedal
Why’d they desire to slash my tires and only throw pebbles?
I’m never off course, they’ll never know my level
So enter Golden Era like we won four medals
‘Cause my team can’t be beat and that’s why we defeat these devils
See, we can win it all once we win our division
So we always take advantage of the chances we’ve been given
Plus we keep it UPS, and deliver with precision
Proficient rhymes, we take the heat and make a great decision
But every MJ needs a Pippen
And Michael dreamt about the titles
Now it’s written
Can’t forget the Dream Team, that’s when he had it
MJ with Larry, David, and played with Magic
True to form, the uniform’s not faded fabric
Truth and the mindful pursuit, no dated habit
So keep in mind that talent wins games, but brains win the rings
When Phil came in, the Bulls became Kings
So I receive what I need, like I’m David Patten
I don’t want, I don’t wish, I just make it happen

[Hook]

Bitch I'm ballin’, you just be the referee
Flow on a higher pedigree, buss it ‘til you rest in piece (peace)
Somethin’ like MJ on the mic, I'm a fuckin’ beast
Couldn't make it the league but I'm like an athlete on funky beats
Chevy on ’95, goin’ ‘bout 93
Smokin’ swishas to the head, the clouds is where you findin’ me
Eatin’ with this green like I done swallowed some lima beans
I'm spittin’ dictionaries, teach ya suckas what rhymin’ means
Ya style’s holier than swiss cheese, you too phony
Bet ya ho miss me, treats my dick like a cannoli
Your substance be like skull and bones, you frontin’ hoe’
Hold the phone
‘Fore you quit ya day job
Play god and your blasphemous tactics get you in a supposed accident
Attack you and them wack quacks you wit
Packin’ spliffs in my Retros press close on the elevator door
‘Bout to soar, hit it big like Jordan in ‘84

[Hook]