(Intro)
People couldn’t see my mission, nor fathom the farthest extent of my vision/I’m so far gone with these verses, all I hear is words, nigga tell me what’s your purpose/Jonny what’s on the agenda?, I’m over being nice now I want to be remembered/girls tell me Poe don’t you ever change, I refuse to stay stagnant, so I can’t stay the same/I don’t owe you not a God damn thing, only classics that’s it, so that’s what I bring/I was two songs away from giving up, so if you still with me let me see your hands up, hands up…
(Hook)
You still with me, let me see your hands up, hands up/you still with me, let me see your hands up/left side, right side, left side, right side, left side, right side, left side...
(Verse I)
Before we start, you know I had to thank the people who copped this, a brief introduction something like a synopsis/Exhibit B was.../what Rakim & Eric B. was.../what B.I.G. was.../what Ice Cube and T was.../Rev. Run, Run DMC was.../cause, my pants saggin’ no regard for you niggas, feeling like I work too hard for you niggas/and if I was you niggas I would applaud and honor this nigga/cause I’m true to the core, I don’t follow you niggas/it’s Poe, the one and only true savior in the industry, true indeed, Exhibit B, part two in the trilogy/consider me amongst the greats, the martyrs, the pioneers, the legends, the innovators, the forefathers/our Father, hollowed by thy name, but I’m solidifying not testifying in vain...
(Hook)
You still with me, let me see your hands up, hands up/you still with me, let me see your hands up/left side, right side, left side, right side, left side, right side, left side...
(Verse II)
I say anything the Lord give he can taketh, and anything the Lord make, no man shall ever breaketh/my style sacred like baby Jesus, Virgin Mary, grippin’ on my Taurus while slowly crossing the darkest valley, my outer borough had the darkest alleys, and I had to go to hell to get through, Dante Alighieri/Pablo, the talent that’s imbedded in my soul through the fibers of my deoxyribose/ nigga, this is genetic not generic, 24-bar lyrical exercise, verbal callisthenic/you get it, I do this for my culture, for the single mother with the world on her shoulders/for my shooters, who’s strapped with no holsters/for my hustlers outside there post-up/to the shorty in his room hanging posters and the girl singing to her comb for exposure/I do this for them, do this for you, do this for her, do this for him/I said I do this for them, do this for you, do this for her, do this for him...
(Hook)
You still with me, let me see your hands up, hands up/you still with me, let me see your hands up/left side, right side, left side, right side, left side, right side, left side...
(Outro)
Being great ain’t enough, I need accolades to back it/I prayed for a classic, rested on the Sabbath/cut from a fabric of kings, tatted garms and my crown wasn’t made of gold, it was thorns/and the good book says it, faith moves mountains, so I’mma be faithful but I’mma move albums/I’mma move millions, not several thousands, I’mma make a difference, something profound/so when I’m in the distance, buried underground and future generations will still talk about him/lyrics like Pac, keep my songs in your college, professors and scholars, I’mma be acknowledged/look at where I came from, look what I accomplished, I’mma be remembered or I’mma be martyred/even when the vultures feed upon my carcass my name will live forever, I will never tarnish…
