Lyrics:

Intro:
Yo, I don't look back that much
Stay forward thinking
But since Home Sweet Home
I want to say 2012 was a good year

Verse 1:
This is for my niggers from back in the day
Outside Ministry chatting up dames
Mabel shop chicken mayo
Ain't watching weight
Watch your back cos them gangsters on blades
Dog in the booth, pull out like I'm trying not to father of a youth
But that remains back in the day
Not the type of boy to get gassed off the fame
Or the type of boy to get gassed off the change
Well, a little bit
Sometimes you gotta love some pretentious shit
Bond Street, Kane, I'm splashing today
I was rocking Dolce Gabbana before that was the way
I was wavy when you wanted waves
You were datsun-ing, you were do-ragging for days
Fashion crazy, follow fashion, nah, fashion insane
On a plane, come back, case full like I was ...
Trying to make the kind of green that only Bruce Banner would lace
Some niggas can't match with the pace
Dat dat dat dat dats my life
...?
There's no Jack Bauer nigga
C T you can't 3 me forward another hour nigga
So start living your dreams never an hour my nigga
I ain't stop because the beat stopped
I'm official I've even got my Chuck D drops
You know what time it is, Rollies and the Hublot and the G-Shock
I remember trying to make some Ps Don
Weighing up my spliffy in the weed spot

[Verse 2:]
But that remains back in the day
Now me and my nigga G macking in Spain
I'm in Nigeria, Beirut and Australia
(Them times there, weren't nothing like them times here)
Niggas In Paris, yeah that shit was cray

Compare stamps in my passport in business
Been there done that, car-keys/khakis and linen
Bought more than a t-shirt, carnies and slippers
Secondary school I'm far from an infant
Sceptics say the only thing is charting that's missing
I've come so far off bars while I give in
Everybody knows the fucking realest
You're looking at too much swagger meets too much content
Blink and you miss it like Ali and Liston
Want my shoes but they can't really fit 'em
When I merk tracks its the cars that I sit in
Cos Formula 1 the master the rhythm
On my Birdman shit trying to master the business
Attack these record labels like the army on missions
Some labels got these niggas in some Ali submissions
Taking merit for a pass I'm distinction
Must pay homage I'm a Master of rhythms
Come through big Entourage like I'm Vincent
They worship my flow like my bars are religion

[Outro:]
Jack Bauer ... 2.4
You know what time it is
Been there, done that
(24 soundbyte)