text: You ain’t got enough stamps in your passport
  To fuck with Young H.O
  Don Dada
  International
  Papa Doc
  What up, Jay?
  Show young boys how to do this thing
  You know me, Ice Cube
  Im like a Glock, nigga, I always got a hot sixteen, knamean?
  I was a young lad of seventeen
  My life had yet to show its ugly face
  Only a pretty façade, hey God, its me
  Remember three, thousand
  The one who used to pray to be a rapper
  My childs in the third grade
  His favorite rapper wasnt rapping til he heard me
  I wasnt rapping till I heard something called Eric B
  And Rakims Paid in Full
  Rap is really getting paid in full
  So full that the kids dont go to school
  In hopes of becoming one of us
  The only requirement is you bust
  Now college is looking slim, product is hooking them
  Before their brains fully develop, they get enveloped by the vision teller
  The television tells them their vision
  Now its hard for them to make decisions without feeling
  Uncool, unschooled, thumb rule
  Rule of thumb, you cant be dumb
  I wish I wouldve studied abroad
  Well I studied a broad and she studied me back
  And my course was hard
  That was that, this is this, listen up
  Cause all Im saying is
  If thirtys the new twenty, thirtys the new twenty for them wheels as well
  They looking for that mic or some pills to sell
  While the girls are steady graduatin
  Niggas standin on the corner hatin, debatin
  Well, should I get the new Js or the Kobes?
  And they rollin so they wide awake for four days
  Huh, Im a G-entleman, lets get reacquainted
  I am Andre Benjamin
  I used to let my pants sag, not givin’ a fuck
  Baby boy, now I’m all grown up
  I used to cruise the used car lot, put chrome on the truck
  Baby boy, now I’m all grown up
  I used to play the block like that
  I used to carry knots like that
  Now I got black cards, good credit and such
  Baby boy, cause I’m all grown up, ha
  Yall roll blunts, I smoke Cubans all day
  Yall young’uns chase, I’m Patronn it straight
  I like South Beach but I’m in St. Tropez
  Yall drink Dom, but not Rose’
  Hey, ya chick shop at the mall
  My chick burning down Bergdorf’s
  Comin back with Birkin bags
  Your chick is like, What type of purse is that?
  I’m from the era where niggas don’t snitch
  You from the era where snitchin is the shit
  I’m afraid of the future
  Yall respect the one who got shot, I respect the shooter
  Yall go to parties to ice grill
  I go to parties to party with nice girls
  Young boys gotta chill, thirty’s the new twenty, nigga, I’m so hot still
  I used to let my pants sag, not givin’ a fuck
  Baby boy, now I’m all grown up
  I used to cruise the used car lot, put chrome on the truck
  Baby boy, now I’m all grown up
  Yeah, we used to ball like that
  Now we own the ball team, holla back
  Now I got black cards, good credit and such
  Baby boy, cause I’m all grown up, ha
  Jay-Z, what can a young motherfucka tell me
  About the LAPD, about the air that we breathe
  Nothin, nada, zero, zilch
  I want tits for fun, you want tits for milk
  Im all leather and silk, your fuckin T-shirt look like a quilt
  Playground king, climb the monkey bars that I built
  Thirtys the new twenty, Phantoms the new Bentley
  Nigga, dont tempt me, Ill bury you up in Tempe 
  And if I catch a ghost rider, tie him to a tree, gasoline like the lighter
  Burn, you motherfuckin biter
  Treat you like George Bush treat Al-Qaeda
  This is Guantanamo, think Im a hoe
  I made the honor roll, mixed with Geronimo 
  Before this mic well pass, learn how to wipe your nose before you wipe your ass
  West Coast
  Yeah, puttin it down, nigga
  You know, ha
  Ice Cube, the pyroclastic flow
  Ha, it never slow down, nigga
  I used to let my pants sag, not givin’ a fuck
  Baby boy, now I’m all grown up
  I used to cruise the used car lot, put chrome on the truck
  Baby boy, now I’m all grown up
  I used to play the block like that
  I used to carry knots like that
  Now I got black cards, good credit and such
  Baby boy, cause I’m all grown up, ha