[Intro] (Thug Radio static, heavy 90s bassline drops, smooth piano chords) Yeah... From the cold streets of Toronto to the concrete blocks of Brooklyn. They try to set me up, try to pin me down. But the Outlaw spirit never dies. Real Thug Passion from the North to the East coast. Check it, look... [Verse 1] I'm caught between two worlds, dodging shadows in the dark, From the blocks of Rexdale straight to Bedford Park. They wanna see me fall, wanna put me in the dirt, But my spirit can’t be broken, raised in hunger and the hurt. In Toronto where the winter freezes blood inside your veins, Haters whispering my name, trying to compound the pain. Then I step foot in New York, where the Brooklyn vultures fly, Staring down the barrel, looking straight into the sky. You got these fake conversationalists playing with my cash, Smiling to my face while they plotting for the crash. But I’m a soldier from the jump, ain't no running from the test, Bulletproof soul underneath a leather vest. They talk that tough talk, but they hollow in the core, While I’m pacing through the airport, moving coast to coast for war. Yeah, they try to take my crown, try to box me in a cell, But a real ghetto prophet walks untouched through hell! [Chorus] Who don't like me? Who don't like me? Tell them cowards I don't give a damn! Living like an Outlaw, only God can judge the man! From the cold of the North to the Brooklyn streets below, You can scream my name, but I’m unstoppable, behold! Who don't like me? Who don't like me? Let the triggers pull and pop! Against all odds, watch me rise to the top! [Verse 2] I see the envy in your eyes, I can smell the fake design, You claim you love the music but you hate to see me shine. I built this lane out of nothing, carved it deep into the stone, Now I'm sitting on a throne and I’m bleeding all alone. Bury me a G if I slide beneath the pressure, Every scar on my back is a cinematic measure. They want a piece of my demise, want a fraction of my soul, But the fire inside me is out of your control. So save your smoke for the wind, let your jealousy ignite, I’m a product of the struggle, I’m the rider in the night. Toronto gave me focus, Brooklyn taught me how to strike, Ain't no rapper alive who can show you what it's like. To be hated by the masses, yet respected by the block, As I watch the hands turning on a countdown clock. I win again, and I win again, it's written in the stars, You can't chain a revolutionary mind behind bars! [Chorus] Who don't like me? Who don't like me? Tell them cowards I don't give a damn! Living like an Outlaw, only God can judge the man! From the cold of the North to the Brooklyn streets below, You can scream my name, but I’m unstoppable, behold! Who don't like me? Who don't like me? Let the triggers pull and pop! Against all odds, watch me rise to the top! [Outro] (Beat slows down, bass hits deep, soulful background vocals join in) Yeah. Only God can judge me, man. To all my real ones in the 416, all my riders out in BK. They can't stop the message. They can't stop the hustle. You can talk all you want, but you can't touch the spirit. West Coast energy, universal Thug Life. We out.
