like the fire needs the air
I won't burn unless you are there
Yeah, I need you, I need you to hate
So I can use you for your energy
You know, it's really shit, feel this!
Everybody wanna know why he got beat
'Cause in my dreams I talked to 'Pac and B.I.G.
Got on the plane hopin that the NYC
It's me behind these bars like Chi-Ali
Niggaz want me to D-i-e
Been there done that
Woke up from a coma on 3 IV's
Eyes on the thrown, somebody in my seat
Fiddlin with rap like Miri Ben-ari
I scoop up squares, drive thru the Bronx and get Jada on the phone
My next stop is Yonkers
After that its Harlem, why?
'Cause im a certified gangsta
And Jim Jones' throwin a Blood party
Red bandanas from 93rd to 115th and Lennex
It's the sequel to Menace
Oh Lord he then went "Oh dog"
Made 50's beef his and knocked 'em both off
Left the VMA awards, went back to the hood
Streets is talkin, Game got slapped by suge
False, I was face to face wit him
Media wanna criticize the game
Like he had Ma$e wit him
He a hood nigga that ain't ever try to snake niggaz
Walk thru the 5 boroughs never had jake with him
Bake it any way you want, ain't no cupcake in him
Even Diddy know, I make the city glow
Never had an album, never had his own video
I was sellin crack while Ja was watchin 50 blow
White tee shirt, converse and my dickies on
Signed wit Dre recorded 150 songs
Now the fuckin hip hop police hatin
tryin to run me outta New York like Anthony Mason
Nigga I'll come and erase you
Only nigga from california
That'll come from the tongue wit a race
I've finished it in my head Like a baby born dead Destination heaven Sittin politic with passin just from 9-11 (yea) The Lords blessing left me lyrically incline (uh huh) Shit I aint even got to try to shine God's a seamstress who tailorfitted my pain I got scribtures in my brain I can spit at your thang Straight out the good book Look niggaz is shook 50 fear no man warrior Swing swords like Conan Picture me pen in hand Write lines knowin' THE SOURCE will quote it When I die they'll read this And say a genius wrote it I grew up witout my Pop Shit that make me bitter I caught cases and got out Does that make me a quitter In this white mans world I'm simmilar to a squirral Lookin for a slut Wit a nice but to get a nut If I get shot today my phone Will stop ringing again These industry niggaz ain't friends They know how to pretend
You should'nt throw stones If you live in a glass house And if you got a glass jaw You should watch your mouth Cause I'll break your face Have you ass runnin Mumbling to the check Your going against me dogg You makin a mistake I split yo lip You lookin like them Michael Jack-Son Jackets Wit all them zippers I'm the boss on this boat You can call me Skipper The way I turn the money over You should call me Flipper Your Bitch a regular Bitch Your callin her Wifey I fucked her feed her fast food You keepin' her Icee I'm down to sell records But not my soul Snoop said this in '94 "We don't love them ho's" I got pennies for my dogs Now I'm rich See the 20's spinnin' Lookin mean on the 6 Nigga's wearin flags Cause the colors match they clothes The get caught in the wrong hood And filled up with holes Motherfucka'