[Intro (The Friends of Distinction - Going In Circles)]
I'm an ever rollin' wheel, without a destination real
I'm an ever spinning top, whirling around till I drop
Oh but what am I to do, my mind is in a whirlpool
Give me a little hope, one small thing to cling to
You got me going in circles (oh round and round I go)
You got me going in circles
(oh round and round I go, I'm spun out over you)
[Fades into Young E]
[Verse 1]
This is the one and only First Detention
I've been helping out out the whole Latin Hustle, did I mention
There's a total of about four new tracks from us?
Gladiator flows like my name was fucking Maximus
Damn, don't confuse this with that 1st Impression
Do that, and I'll leave you in a personal Great Depression
That shit was way too dope, way too outta my league
Like a model girl fast on her knees, with no fatigue
But yo, I drop sick shit, the fucking sickest around
Sicker than death flowing around in a small town
I got rhymes of murder, speakers of fear, turn up the surround sound
Leave your crew and your moms on the ground, where I found
The rest of your life, please, you ain't down to go pound for pound
The story of my life and rap is starting to mix but I won't frown
Cause with every tear, comes a laugh, so look at me now
[Verse 2]
I named this the First Detention since I deserve a timeout
With a couple of bad bitches, or till I'm fucking blown out
My energy is gone, barely enough to record this shit
I'm new, I don't ask for much, but please, no quarters and shit
Making so much music, it's starting to get me bored and shit
But wait, you actually though I would forfeit and shit?
Fuck that, but even if I wanted to stop, I couldn't
Even if I wanted to put down the mic, I wouldn't
Nah, nay, nope or whatever
Yah, yay, hope for that Eva
Ima do this motherfucking rap shit forever
Slick thoughts, rhymes too clever
Sly Tendencies, wearing an Active sweatshirt
Wicked communication, bitches get a wet squirt
So fly from the ground, pissing on birds
Dictionary mayhem, jizzing on words
Shit, I drop sick shit, my flows are doo doo
I listen to myself, so fuck what you told me to do
[Verse 3]
I'm so off my schedule, but somehow I make time
I'm back up in this shit, and I'm fucking out of line
If Ace is the Latin Prince of Fuckin' Rhymes, well I'm the king
Please don't take this as a diss, I'm just aiming for the bling
If you niggas are sick, well I might as well be dead
You bitches nothing but paperwork, I'll file you next to "ped"
Or instead next to the rapists and a fucking bed
Why you mad now? I'm thinking it was something I said
Well if it is, I ain't sorry cause I do shit for a reason
I'm starting to see green like somebody brought the trees in
I'm forever loyal to the Latin Hustle, fuck treason
How come you bitches ain't tasting right?
I'm like: "Somebody please change the fucking season!"
I'm too cool, so the fans be fucking freezin'
I got these hoes pissed off like I was fucking teasin'
Whoever listens to Ace, Flow, or Woods better be believin'
Or else ima drop y'all like four floors and no pleasin'
[Outro]
Shout out to Lil Ace (man), Latin Hustle (stuff)
Shout out to my fucking self (man), and my baby (stuff)
Shout out to Charles Woods (yeah), Lady Flow (yup)
We got them goods (yeah), and we ain't letting go (yup)
I'm like blah (damn), sipping on that Patron (cups)
Purple Drank, God (damn), Styrofoam (cups)
