Why did one straw break the camel’s back?
Here’s the secret:
The million other straws underneath it.
This is for my bitches in the shelters that don’t need shelter, you just doin’ that shit for a crib.
And all my bad little bitches, when your baby father hits you, stick a ice cold knife in his ribs.
And all my bitches pimp the system, get your WIC, tell your workers, “Fuck that,” you gon’ have more kids.
And you ain’t have ‘em cause you need ’em, but now you gotta feed em, so you figure that your ass gon’ strip.
I’d rather make one righteous dollar on my level
Than make a million dollars spittin’ rhymes for the devil.
When I hit the bong
I’m Godzilla takin’ over Hong Kong
Eatin’ wonton with a shotgun in long johns.
Through the fame, through the fire and the flames,
I adapt to the pain, real niggas do the same.
And though we homies and we no longer hang
You know you know me, and that love still remains.
Save your wack rhymes, hold your female.
Pass the Old Gold, trash the ale.
Cash your food stamps, get the WIC out the mail.
Love to eat shrimps, but I never eat snail,
Eat a whole fish except for the tail.
Keep food in the fridge so it don’t get stale,
And when there’s nothing to eat…I bite my nails.
A thug changes, and love changes,
And best friends become strangers.
Haters wanna ball, let me tighten up my draw string.
Wrong sport, boy, you know you’re as soft as a lacrosse team.
Real slow hits from the bong…
Make me feel like Cheech,
And I’m kickin’ it with Chong.
Working hard may help you maintain,
To learn to overcome the heartaches and pain.
Tried to put shame in my game to make a name,
I’mma put it on a bullet…put it in your brain.
I’m livin’ in times where my daughters are found around
Kids who can’t afford thinking caps…
But always found drinkin’ raps and eatin’ off beats,
Claimin’ laws of the streets. But who made the laws?
Everybody playin’ rebel with no sign of a cause.
Once I slapped a rapper with mace,
Then I spit acid in his face, after he rinsed his eyes, no wait…
I actually grew five times my size, grabbed Ma$e by the thigh and slapped a rapper with him.
Somebody gotta tell you this:
Cancer kills way more Americans than any Arabic terrorist.
We use more money to fight them than finding a cure,
So a little kid sits there with his chemo-therapist.
Hair falling out while his vital signs weaken…
He’ll be dead while his parent are in debt for his treatment.
These days you can’t see who’s in cahoots,
Cause now the KKK wears three-piece suits.
I’m on some tax-free shit by any means,
Whether bound to hit scheme or some counterfeit C.R.E.A.M.
Cocaine trafficking, your boy’s back again,
Moving bricks like I got a degree in scaffolding.
Fucking with some cats from Newark…half of them Jewish,
Cool white boys riding around, blasting my music,
And I’m taxin’ them like Jackson-Hewitt.
The IRS’ll never sweat me or even put up a fight…
Cause I’m sure I’ve paid more in taxes than you’ve made in yo’ life!
You wanna stop the X? Try your best,
I’m still fuckin with your pockets like the IRS.
Takes a long time to happen so fast…
To realize that your future is somebody else’s past
Hip-hop started on the block;
I fell asleep at the wheel, the shit crashed into Pop.
It’s like I’m married to the silencer,
Until I file for divorce and release my ex-calibers.
Do art with your arteries, place that for my adversaries,
Put your snap back cap back, cap your capillaries.
I got a problem with spending before I get it…
We all self-conscious, I’m just the first to admit it.
Could hate a person, but in fact it’s not worth it.
Never know how long you’ve got on this earth, kid.
Question religion, question it all,
Question existence until them questions are solved.
There’s four sides to every story…
If these walls could talk, they’d probably still ignore me.
And I’m not sure why I’m infatuated with death,
My imagination is surely an aggravation of threats…
Maybe cause I’m a dreamer, and sleep is the cousin of death,
Really stuck in the scheme of wondering when I’mma rest.
You don’t really get why I’m so pissed?
I’m an artist, and I’m sensitive about my shit.
Brooklyn: the home of the black and the beautiful.
For a rough rap sound, ain’t a place more suitable.
If you ain’t using all the talents God provided you with
For the betterment of Man, understand,
You ain’t nothing but a waste.
Whatcha gonna do to this?
You may be older than me, but you’re new to this.
Cause I been out there, queen of MC’s,
When your man was walkin’ round in mocknecks and Lee’s.
While you were over here perpetratin’ a fraud,
I was overseas on the charts with Boy George.
You’re the beginner, Shante’s the winner,
Havin’ other competition for dinner.
Sit you on the table with a plate and cup,
Say grace…and then eat your ass up.
Sorry, Mrs. Drizzy, for so much art talk;
Silly me rappin’ ‘bout shit that I really bought.
While these rappers rap about guns they ain’t shot,
And a bunch of other silly shit that they ain’t got.
A rap villain: chillin’ and I don’t give a fuck about a killin’ cause I’m still in effect when you’re illin’.
My feet might fail me, my heart might ail me,
The synagogues of Satan might accuse or jail me,
Strip, crown, nail me, brimstone hail me…
They might defeat the flesh but they could never ever kill me.
They might feel the music but could never ever feel me.
I never boned a honey that I didn’t like,
I never saw a mile that I couldn’t hike.
I never had a spliff to make me choke,
I never had a pocket that was broke.
Bitch, I’m coming live from the trunk and I thrive on the funk;
Cause I’d rather die like a man than survive like a punk.
Run from the police, picture that,
Nigga I’m too fat…
I fuck around and catch a asthma attack.
Rappers can’t sleep, need sleepin’,
B.I.G. keep creepin’,
Casualties need treatin’,
Dumb rappers need teachin’.
I know how it feels to wake up fucked up,
Pockets broke as hell, another rock to sell.
People look at you like you’s the user,
Selling drugs to all the losers, mad buddha abuser.
But they don’t know about the stress-filled day…
Baby on the way, mad bills to pay,
That’s why you drink Tanqueray,
So you can reminisce and wish
You wasn’t living so devilish, shit.
Damn right I like the life I live,
Cause I went from negative to positive.
Back in the days, our parents used to take care of us.
Look at ‘em now…they even fuckin’ scared of us.
If I wasn’t in the rap game,
I’d probably have a key knee-deep in the crack game.
Because the streets is a short stop:
Either you’re slinging crack rock or you got a wicked jump shot.
You and your friends…always together,
No time for the B-I-G, so I’m O-U-T.
The sex was great, but the headaches I can’t take.
I think I made a very big mistake.
You’re mad cause my style you’re admiring…
Don’t be mad, UPS is hiring.
There’s gonna be a lot of slow singing and flower bringing
If my burglar alarm starts ringing
…The greatest rapper of all time died on March 9th.
God bless his soul, rest in peace, kid.
It’s because of him now at least I know what beef is.
Unpredictable, liable to flip my lid…
My moms dropped me on my head when I was a kid.
Back then I lost all my marbles, today I lost my job,
So in essence, it’s Armageddon, somebody’s bound to get robbed!
Real niggaz represent and don’t die,
Never dead, like I said, all we fuckin’ do is multiply.
It seems to me like all these people claim to be the victim,
Acting like the whole entire world is out to get them.
Stand up on your own,
And prove that you are grown,
Because the life that you save may be your own.
Why is the world round?
Why do the suckas bite?
Why do the freaks come out at night?
Why they paint Jesus white?
I sit and wonder why we breakin hip-hop laws,
Doing videos in houses that we know ain’t yours.
How can they say feeling good is an addiction?
But the world is full of shit, so I don’t listen,
In fact, ‘we livin’ to die’ is a contradiction.
On the real, fuck your opinion.
I made it this far, and you broke.
I be tossin’, enforcin’, my style is awesome.
I’m causin’ more Family Feuds than Richard Dawson.
And the survey said: “You’re dead.”
Fatal Flying Guillotine chops off your fuckin’ head!
I met a gypsy and she hipped me to some life game,
To stimulate, then activate the left and right brain.
Said, ‘Baby boy, you only funky as your last cut.
You focus on the past, your ass’ll be a has-what.’
That’s one to live by, or either that’s one to die to.
I am recognizing that the voice inside my head
Is urging me to be myself, but never follow someone else
Because opinions are like voices, we all have a different kind.
First I snatched the streets, then I snatched the charts.
First I had they ear, now I have their heart.
Rappers came and went…I’ve been here from the start.
I seen them put it together, watched them take it apart.
I be with broads that got they shit together;
Even if it ain’t meant forever, still smoke the spliff together.
The essence of the herbs, the presence of the words…
Yeah you got a chest, but I’m treasurin’ your curves.
Just ‘cause you got money don’t mean you made it.
Just ’cause you make it, don’t give you the right to be on that fake shit.
If you admire somebody, you should go on ‘head tell ’em;
People never get the flowers while they can still smell ’em.
What if somebody from the Chi that was ill got a deal on the hottest rap label around?
But he wasn’t talking ‘bout coke and birds, it was more like spoken word,
Except he’s really puttin’ it down.
Bullets ain’t racial, kid…they only hate you.
I clock G’s while you clock Z’s.
And I don’t smoke crack…I smoke MC’s.
Can’t live with them…can’t live without them.
But I love a whole lot more than I hate about them.
They look good, feel good, and smell even better,
So why you acting like your mama didn’t use that leather?
‘B word’ this, ‘H bomb’ that.
In the midst all of this, I wonder: ‘Where your moms at?’
Cause if she ain’t one, then tell me where the hate from?
You just calm down, and maybe you can date one.
Buy some flowers, open up some doors.
She needs some tampons? Homie, go to the store.
Vitamin Water, a bottle of Motrin,
Teddy bear, candy bar, something, a token
Of affection, a step in that direction,
…Cause love is about progress, not perfection.
I came in the door, I said it before
I never let the mic magnetize me no more.
But it’s biting me, fighting me, inviting me to rhyme,
I can’t hold it back…I’m looking for the line.
Taking off my coat, clearing my throat,
My rhyme will be kicking until I hit my last note.
Life is something you can’t borrow and give back;
Here today and gone tomorrow…just like that.
If I don’t got two balls and a middle finger to throw up,
I’m takin off both shoes and stickin each middle toe up.
My mind’s my 9, my pen’s my Mac-10.
My target? All you wack niggaz who started rappin’.
Two wrongs don’t make it right, but it damn sure makes us even.
My old soul remains forever young…
I’ve done it all, and still I’m doing shit that I ain’t ever done.
See, it depends on your definition of winning;
I ain’t started from the bottom, I started from the beginning.
…I’ve never had a dream in my life,
Because a dream is what you wanna do, but still haven’t pursued.
I knew what I wanted, and did it till it was done.
So I’ve been the dream I wanted to be since Day One.
Who gives a fuck about a goddamn Grammy?
The motto goes: Sex, Drugs and Rock ‘n’ Roll.
I prefer: Love, Hugs and Hip-Hop Soul.
You can take back all the things you give,
But you can’t take back the days you live.
Life is to some people who’ve been on earth
Livin’ every single day for what it’s worth.
I live life just how I please,
Satisfy one person I know: that’s me.
If I upset you, don’t stress. Never forget
That God isn’t finished with me yet.
I feel His hand on my brain…
When I write rhymes, I go blind and let the Lord do His thang.
I got a lot of things to do, a lot of money to make;
I got no time for you and all the moves you fake.
Life is full of stress and it wrecks my brain,
So I puff the buddha bless and destroy the pain.
Of course I’m funky like fat people having intercourse.
Basically, the funk is stuck in your teeth…so get the dental floss.
Even through the unseen, I know that God watches,
From one King’s dream, he was able to Barack us.
I believe in heaven more than hell, lessons more than jail.
In the ghetto, let love prevail with a story to tell.
My eyes see the glory, and well,
The world waiting for me to yell, “I Have A Dream!”
I’m living three dreams:
Biggie Smalls’, Dr. King, Rodney King’s.
Cause we can’t get along, no resolution?
‘Til we drown all these haters…
Rest in peace to Whitney Houston
If Dr. King marched today, would Bill Gates march?
I know Obama would, but would Hillary take part?
What’s the basis when rappers don’t know the basics?
Still not takin’ advice from those I wouldn’t trade places with.
Got more milky syllables than alphabet cereals.
Play the game for my people, stay in charge of your dreams.
Keep your vision focused, get wise, and largen your C.R.E.A.M.
I play chess, but my past is checkered,
The mic and I are like staff and shepherd.
Now I don’t want to be a dopeman, listen:
I didn’t have a dime, a nickel, penny, a pot to piss in.
See, all my clothes had holes and they fit tight,
Pray to God cause it’s hard trying to live right.
Waiting on the train, can’t hang with the street gangs,
Making me insane, putting rain on my whole brain.
But the train means change to better thangs;
Can’t live with the negative and ghetto pains.
Can’t be late, can’t wait to get to where we’re going,
Almost ten to four and I’m sure that the train is showing.
But I ain’t sure where it goes, I don’t really know it,
But I got faith, that’s all it takes to get to where we’re going.
You better recognize, adjust your bifocals;
Your style is local…I sit on the beach in Acapulco.
I put words together like Peter Jennings,
And skate on motherfuckers like Peggy Fleming.
Question: Why is that MC’s be wack
And major labels wanna sign that crap?
I write raps, and when niggas bite, I clap.
Cause their shit sounds better now.
Fuck movin’ mountains, I move planets and leave you Earthless.
Terror Squad: the worst that hurt shit, split your universes.
I can’t relate to livin’ less than great.
My motto is: the bigger they are, the more politics involved,
And I revolve at a rate to make your occipital skull plate dissolve.
Techniques delve deep, soooo…don’t sleep, ock, I rock phonics
That got you holdin my dick like your name was Lorena Bobbit.
Funny how things change when you got a liquor in ya:
You’re quicker with the tongue, givin’ me rhythm now.
Block the music and the people out to admire the love,
The nerve of us…impervious to the entire club.
And like marijuana shotguns, let’s blow this joint,
It’s pointless to stay here, so let me anoint.
Crazy frustration, about my lovin situation;
When patience was a virtue…but I wasn’t used to waitin.
Take a sip from the cup of death…
And when you’re shaking my right hand, I’ll stab you with the left.
If you don’t got endz, you won’t be gettin’ no skinz,
And if you don’t got money, you won’t scoop a honey.
If you don’t got cash, you won’t be gettin’ no ass,
And if you don’t got loot, you won’t be knockin’ no boots.
Niggas out here buyin’ hoes bags n’ shoes,
But couldn’t buy their kid a new coat for school?
I got a head full of headaches, a heart that’s full of woes.
I’m constantly singin’ them down home blues, and not many people knows
That leaves me with a twisted view of the whole wide world as I know it…
And I guess I got no choice but to be a poet.
You’re living up in Heaven, but I know you’re mad as Hell.