What’s poppin? My gun on ya head, nigga.
What’s crackin? The bones in ya head, nigga.
What’s really good? Nothin but the doe.
What’s really hood? You already know.
Miss can I get a second to speak and quietly mention,
That I am so into who you are, can I get your attention?
Don’t ask for a cig’ – I’m so self-centered, I won’t even share this cancer.
The truth is easier when you leavin’ it out.
Like when you “5 minutes away” but you’re just leavin your house?
I’m from back then, bro, when the phrase was “fresh.”
…When Michael Jackson’s nose looked like KRS.
You ain’t a gangsta, you a bitch with a beat.
Ayo, the arm bone connected to the hand bone,
Nigga, the hand bone connected to the damn chrome!
A thin line between the haters and the ones who love us.
A thinner line from the freedom and the foul judges,
In the streets where the snake niggas hold grudges.
What the fuck happened to reality-spitting rhyme sayers?
These days, everybody trying to be a thug or a player.
Where did all the real motherfuckers go in the game?
Bring back the breakdancers and graffiti writers with fame.
Anything worth having is hard to keep,
I love you like my coffee, so hot and so sweet.
So, let’s stick it out so we never regret it,
I could forgive the past–but I never forget it.
Ooh! Jesus Christ had dreads, so shake ‘em.
I ain’t got none, but I’m planning on growing some.
Imagine all the Hebrews going dumb…
Dancing on top of chariots and turning tight ones.
We made plans, but we’ll never be able to fulfill ‘em.
This is shit we put together since we was little…
Every time we had dreams, you found a way you could kill ’em.
Every coast gotta know, I’m the most with the flow,
No joke I’m a pro, I’m like The Pope on the low.
You know them days you just got the blues,
All stressed and depressed from just watchin’ the news?
No matter what good you do, it seems you always get screwed.
Got you caught up in your feelings, now you off in the mood.
Shake that attitude and do what you can,
Set a couple goals, follow through with your plans.
Time waits for no man and tomorrow’s not promised,
So if she’s still alive, shoot a call to your mama.
Cause the fighting and the drama, it’s just not worth it,
Nobody’s perfect, ain’t none of us worthless.
We all got a place, and we all got a purpose.
You never know: rain, sleet, hail, snow,
See you gotta accept that’s how things go.
Prepare for the rainy day, or the sun’s glow,
But there’s clouds movin’ in and the clouds gonna blow.
Ayo, the arm bone connected to the hand bone,
Nigga, the hand bone connected to the damn chrome!
Look here: “Mo’ money, mo’ problems,” my ass.
You’s a naive cat if you still believe that.
I’m from Jerz, the home of: “I could’ve swore I parked my car right here!”
It’s kinda hard bein humble in the belly of the struggle,
Doin things that probably get you in trouble.
Your white tee, well to me, looks like a nightgown;
Make your mama proud, take that thing two sizes down.
My karma’s the comma that puts you inside of a coma,
Hyphen, dot, dot, semi-colon, leave you semi-swollen.
Question mark, you pregnant?
Oh you’re not? I love you, period.