I hate gossip, And I don't walk around looking for it, you know? But yesterday it seemed to just wander until it found me, You know like, Gossip found me Then why don't you just provin' it How? You don't know how to prove it?, Well, what you just do is.
Stop, hatin' on a nigga That is a weak emotion The lady of a nigga And you could get tipped Like ya waitin' on a nigga, Put a body bag and an apron on a nigga
I give my all behind the mic, But you could never see, if you sit behind the light You don't have to pick me, to win the title fight But I'm a wear that championship belt so tight And if I'm wrong, there is no right And if I'm wrong, there is no white I'm tryna be po-lite, but you bitches in my hair like the fucking Po-lice My flow is rare, these other rappers nice, These other rappers bark, Some of em' even bite But I'm much more bright I give the game sight So before you dim the light you just might, might, wanna
Think it over (think it over) ooh Think it over (think it over) baby baby
Stop, analyzin' critacizin', You should realize what I am and start epidamizin' Legitimate, I got the heart of the biggest lion I'm confident like fuck 'em all pull out my dick and ride it My flow sick, so sick, it's like my shit is dyin' It rains a lot in my city, because my citys cryin' because my citys dyin' But I emerge from all of that, I am a livin pio-neer, sighin' Fear God, not them Steer my Robin Coupe through the streets of the booth and Soo-woo And, then I leek a tub in the boot, I leave a blood bath, Sorry there's a tub in the boot, now where the drugs at? I'm twisted like the strings on a shoe No nigga fuck that I'm twisted like the strings on a boot, Now where New Orleans at? I feel hip hop stole me like a bus pass So in your possession, I, I must ask
Hey, haven't I been good to you? (Think it over) Tell me, haven't I been sweet to you?
Drag my name through the mud I come out clean Cast away stones I won't even blink A gun is not a math problem, I won't even think Just leave you dead like the meat under my sink Don't believe in me Don't believe me I've graduated from hungry, And made it to greedy My flow is like pasta Take it and eat it But I'm a need cheese if I'm bakin' a ziti You niggas want beef? I want a steak in the weed B Lost in Amsterdam or Jamaica where weed be Hard body nigga, takin' it easy All about my paper, bout my paper like Eazy Why do rappers, lot of rappers, lot of fans, lot of rappers, lot of rappers Lie like actin', cut the motherfuckin' cameras Cut the check, nigga fuck your pops And make it out to Mr. Hip Hop