Picture me ballin in the drop top, open skies
In something foreign, soarin, 145
The God is calling for my body, let my spirit fly
I want it all, no lie
Picture me pourin poppin something imported
Pedal flooring, clutch poppin, boppin to Lauryn
Now picture me falling
Never seen, never heard, never happened, never occurred
Now picture me flying 10,000 feet above the sea
Popping bubbly, youd love to be me
Now picture the servants in the cabin with the sweetest massage
Picture having ice and only wanna speak to God
Picture your dreams being shattered and your cream being lavished
At the same time, tell me what you think matters
Picture all the money that Ive gotten off tours
Now picture me plotting for more, picture this nigga
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Do you like it (yeah)
Wanna do the things that I do
Tell me do you want it (yeah)
Wanna know what its like in my shoes
Do you need it (yeah)
Wanna see the things that I see
Tell me do you want it (yeah)
Wanna know what its like to be me
Picture me wildin, fiendin, reaching for tools
Straight flipping, losing my cool
Now picture me gritty, P. Diddy bout to run in your house
The guns with me, put one in your mouth
Now picture me dressed in white linen while your life is ending
Slightly grinning, picture that priceless image
Picture me broke as fuck on your block about to open up
Like Okay nigga, whats up
Picture me driving a course through your home, bustin a "U"
Screaming at the top of my lungs "YOU FUCKING WITH WHO?"
Picture me not being that hustler dude
Picture the Benz, a 5, and the drop not new
Picture the watch aint platinum, and the rocks not blue
Picture yall niggaz not knowing how I do
Picture me, better yet picture you
Painting a better picture than the one that I drew
Where do you go from here when you felt youve done it all
When what used to get you high dont get you high no more
When you got a lot of cars, dont even drive no more
When youre expected to win, they aint surprised no more
Hold up, stop, wait, reverse the tape
How much money can one nigga make in one place
How much dough could you hold in one safe
How many hoes can a nigga really chase
Where do you go after the applause
After all the Soul Train and Grammy awards, after the tours
After asking these whores what they after me for
Is it the money? The fame? The house, take it all
The skys the limit, but I aint done jumping
Money is fast, but I aint done running
Picture me driving some wack shit
Picture me folding under pressure, picture that shit
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