[Verse 1]
Fellowman be that MC with a propensity
to get intensely funky like some head cheese, where my benjis?
My dogs got jaws like Benchley's,
if skills sold, my little toe would go for ten Gs,
and weigh a hundred pounds, get it John popping like the runaround,
welcome to the underground,
feet stay planted on the planet while my spirit stay upward bound,
lyric lift you to the summit then plunge you down!
My man said, “dead the microphone hero shit,
stack your c-notes thick, then you can ego trip.”
I got salty like a Frito chip, cuz I believe in this,
it ain't about an east coast tip.
Fellow never claimed that he load clips,
never claimed to be so rich, never call a queen no bitch,
never diss a rapper cuz the beat don't hit,
he throw wit at the empire, elite beat poet.

[Chorus]
For my (sons and daughters)
You know I do it for my, for my (sons and daughters)
[x2]

[Verse 2]
I don't freestyle a lot, but when I do it's kinda hot
cuz I defile the spot, I'm not the type that you should try to stop.
It's no surprise I drop pearls off the dome,
cuz like the hymn says, this world is not my home.
See, I'm a native of a spiritual plane,
but I came to this planet to bring the lyrical pain
to anyone that's interfering with change, make it clear to the laymen,
this shit is not mere entertainment.
If I appear to be brazen, it's in the spirit of saying
that anything you want is here for the taking,
long as you don't adhere to the lame trends, steer clear of the fake friends,
remember you're a miracle made flesh.
This life'll put you through a myriad paces,
haters that'll jeer in your faces, unforeseen changes,
they may be weird, but embrace them,
each fear that you face'll bring you nearer to greatness.

[Chorus]