"Breakfast" lyrics

Some of the good things that weed can do
PSA: let me start shooting 'em fucking commercials
(Jets in the house)

I'm, so cold with it the potency of the beat
Is consistent with the fact that Mos did it
Prolific not shaken or stirred
In the presence of those niggas, herbs
They only after your bread them fucking birds
You think they like your haircut, fair enough
Live your life, partner
Guess I could keep them two cents in my pocket
Add that to these underground rap Dollas
Refused the majors and stay real, I kept my promise
Rolled Bambus in the Bahamas, momma
It's either that or them strawberry coladas
Xbox web browser, download an updated NBA roster
Play an eighty-two game season
Condo full of snacks, Spitta not leaving
Off-brand muthafuckas
Odd number, you are not even on my level
Write that sickness my ink pen sneezing
Yancey Thigpen can't catch me sleeping
You ear hustling mothafucka and I'm eating
Creeping with my side bitch
Hope I don't get caught cheating
New Orleans this morning, New York in this evening
Squinting they eyes and shit they can't see him
Fly in the house, buzzing, them bugs can't be him
Illegible letters in my ledger they can't read 'em
Smiling, money piling, I'm cheesing
Odometer broken I ain't know that I was speeding
Fast living, sloe gin for these bitches
I got that game from my Pittsburgh nigga
SV Diablo, '96 wings lift, Daniel-san crane kick
Wah!

[Mos Def:]
You're the best, around
You're the best, around
You're the best, around
You're the best, around