What happened in hip hop That got Pac and Big shot The thicks blocks Now every rapper claim He let his clique pop But even myself told the gun To know the run then get shot Ive been there before Now im fuckin with doc (Gotta do them Calvin Broadus numbers) If not i push rocks Anticipatin my incarceration Media think im fakin like mason But when it comes to mase Fuck R Kelly i dont take it in the face I find out who sprayed it And im putting you under the pavement No buddhist priest, catholic, or baptist pastor can save him Im far from religious But i got beliefs, so i put Cannary yellow diamonds In my jesus piece I came back from the dead Without a part of my chest Layed in a hospital bed on cardiac arrest I waited for 3 years While everybody else dropped Now i understand why NAS Did a song with his pops
Im ready to die Without a reasonable doubt Smoke chronic and hit it Doggy style before i go out Until they sign my death certificate All eyez on me Im still at it, illmatic And thats THE DOCUMENTARY
If i die my niggas, fuck it I did a song with Mary Blige, my niggas Got a hook from Faith No verse from Jay I guess on westside story He thought i spit in his face I told Ed Lover and Monie Luv I was talkin to Ja With that mayback line It was payback time Keep fuckin with me nigga Ill put you under me Take your car and trade it in For eight 3 hundred C's If you cross my T I dot your I's You'll do life in a cementary Ill do mine with Shyne Come home sit in the thrown With my legs crossed And my air force Middle finger up Fuck the world Cause im fellin like Puff When life after death hit Mo' money, mo' problems And i lost my best friend Im the second dopest nigga From compton u'll ever hear The first nigga only put out albums Every 7 years (haha)
[Game (Commentator)] (You know what speakin of Jay That just makes me roll down Now your song westside story) Ohh Ohh (You got a line that says Dont wear throwbacks Or drive, ride in maybacks, Is that a shot at Jay?) Naa, i was talkin about Ja Rule Yeah, So, Yeah, i got a lot of Respect for Jay You know what im saying I never take shots at legends Thats just something i dont do
[Verse 3 - Game (Busta)] Let me tell you why i do this shit Im a son of a gun Cause moms was a hoover crip First day i got signed I had to prove i spit Freestyle with Busta Rhymes (son dude is sick) The prodigy of Doc Dre. I could finally put the shoes on Now that the rumors of Rakim and Cube gone They say truth hurts Sunk, like quick sand Dont stop me in traffic And ask about hitman I gotta restore the feelin It crawled from under the rock After the dog pound Crushed the buildings I got a family to feed Im the middle of 9 children We can talk about a loan After i sell 5 million If i tell you i aint game And i dont know Dre. You gonn do me like x-zibit And cut half of my face? I take all the credit For putting the west Back on the map If you aint feelin that guess im Gorilla Black!!!