[Maestro Fresh Wes] First I learn to crawl, then I learn to walk Then I learn to talk, then I learn to rhyme Suckers try to hock my lines But I'mma serve ya On the microphone I murder Killing chump rappers Since the days of eating Gerber's baby food The crazy dude with the pablum, the bad one I grab the mic just like a Magnum Fly girls was jiggling, clinging to my ding-a-ling Wes, you was hitting skins as a baby Yeah true but I was fingering Yeah, check out shorty in the diapers They're some big motherfuckers rhyming at the ciphers Grown-ups knew that I be wealthy They used to say "that baby boy gots talent, but his mouth is so filthy" I worte creazy rhymes to the beat Had the, freedom of speach But I still couldn't reach, the tall glass of milk On the table, my lyrics were stable But still I wasn't able to get it I didn't sweat it, I paid it no mind I wrote another fat rhyme at the drop of a dime Now I'm hoping for the day to come So I can hear my Dukes say, "Wesley you son of a gun"
CHORUS X2
[Maestro Fresh Wes] No time for chilling black I wrote a killa rap, made an illa track Knocking back the similack Graduated from the formula, I had a scheme Milk was calling me, just like the pipe to a fiend But still I had to play cool, couldn't play a fool So many MCs, are dropping out of pre-school To get a record deal, forget it gotta hustle Yo yo yo, how did money fall off? Got lost in the shuffle Ho thought he was a prankster Every chick he'd meet he romanced her Acting like a private dancer But the music industry Hobbes, is serious as cancer No place for a rapper, that still wearing papmpers Even if you're signed, you'll still got to struggle And making fat beats is just a piece of the puzzle So props to the brother that made the Soul Clap Becuase my labels gave me flack money had my back Forget the pacifier and your beachnut Came out with three cuts Now everybody's on these nuts I got another rhyme, won't you check it So fine tune the mic, engineer and I'mma wreck it
CHORUS X3
[Maestro Fresh Wes] You know you got to go for self, support yourself Like KRS said, you got to promote yourself that's a fact not a fable, (word) Get out the cradle Or you'll be grippling with your record label No time to play clown, if you want to stay around Learn the business, and this ain't a playground No time for Dr. Suess, or Mother Goose You can rhyme and produce, but now you got to get loose Just a piece of advice, now go your own path And that allowance that you're getting money ain't gonna last (What's this?) another fat beat that I build You know It took a long time But the borther's drinking milk
CHORUS X4
OUTRO [Maestro Fresh Wes] Yeah, going out to Diggin' In The Crates, Main Source
Compositor: Wesley St Aubyn Williams (Maestro) ECAD: Obra #16139812