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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.
Now on the first day of Christmas, my homeboy gave to me
A sack of the krazy glue and told me to smoke it up slowly.
Now on the second day of Christmas, my homeboy gave to me
A fifth of Hendog and told me to take my mind off that weed.
Now by the third day of Christmas, my big homeboy gave to me
A whole lot of everything, and it wasn’t nuthin’ but game to me.
I’m hooked on gin and tonics like your mama’s Hooked on Phonics.
They say sleep is the cousin of death, guess we related…
Cause I’m the most slept on, and the most hated.
Time flies, dreams die, people lose faith,
Tryna hide behind a lie with a straight face.
Make a radio hit: heads criticize it.
Underground classic? Nobody buys it.
So, rap is fucked…
And everything blowing up sounds redundant,
But money talks and bullshit does 9 flat in the 100.
How you know where I’m at when you haven’t been where I’ve been?
Understand where I’m coming from?
Nothing’s been the same since they dropped ‘Control’
And tucked a sensitive rapper back in his pajama clothes.
Ha-ha! Joke’s on you, high-five, I’m bulletproof,
Your shit’ll never penetrate.
Pin the tail on the donkey, boy you been a fake.
Every time I write these words they become a taboo,
Making sure my punctuation curve, every letter here’s true,
Living my life in the margin, and that metaphor was proof.
He rolls down his window and he started to say:
‘It’s all about making that GTA.’
We live in a society created by an empire
That’s based on terror…welcome to the One World Era,
A complete interruption to your lil’ paltry-ass life,
That you thought you was livin, and what you been given.
What is competition? I’m tryna raise the bar high,
Who tryna jump and get it? You better off tryna skydive
Out the exit window of 5 G5’s with 5 grand
With your granddad as the pilot he drunk as fuck tryna land
With the hand full of arthritis and popping prosthetic leg
Bumpin Pac in the cockpit so the shit that pops in his head
Is an option of violence, someone heard the stewardess said
That your parachute is a latex condom hooked to a thread.
I’ve seen niggas transform like villain Decepticons,
Mollies’ll prolly turn these niggas to fuckin’ Lindsay Lohan.
A bunch of rich ass white girls lookin’ for parties,
Playin with Barbies, wreck the Porsche before you give ‘em the car key.
Bummy nigga famous, straight from the bottom,
Broke niggas hate it, still never robbed ‘em.
Guns in the basement, out they have a problem,
Kush be my fragrance, we love marijuana.
I circumnavigate the globe with a one-liner like latitude.
Her dreams hold Versace,
She fall for Armani…
Only deal with rich niggas,
Fuck you and Mitt Romney.
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.
I ain’t goin out like a spineless jellyfish.
Some say life is a bitch…
Ask that punk who dug his own ditch.
How you picture tomorrow with the wrong frame of mind?
How you picture love, if you were blind?
Woke up quick, at about noon.
Just thought that I had to be in Compton soon.
I gotta get drunk before the day begins,
Before my mother starts bitchin bout my friends.
I can drink a whole Hennessy fifth.
Some call that a problem, but I call it a gift.
Whether chocolate or vanilla, or you’re somewhere in between,
A cappuccino mocha or a caramel queen,
Rejected by the black, not accepted by the white world,
And this is dedicated to them dark-skinned white girls.
You keepin it real, but ain’t got a clue what reality really be;
See, the diameter of your knowledge is the circumference of your activity.
I don’t know what’s better: getting laid or getting paid.
I just know when I’m getting one, the other’s getting away.
You know it ain’t no stoppin’
All the doggs I’m droppin’
It’s Friday night, so everything is poppin.
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.
I live this life at a pace that anyone can go.
Know your place, and dedicate your role
…To the faith that you’ll die alone
Back as kids we used to kiss when we played truth or dare,
Now she’s more sophisticated, highly edu-ma-cated
Not at all over-rated…I think I need a prayer
To get in her boots, and it looks rather dry,
I guess a twinkle in her eye is just a twinkle in her eye.
Although she’s crazy steppin’, I’ll try to stop her stride,
‘Cause I won’t have no more of this passin’ me by.
Picture yourself crushin’ Xzibit with your tough talk?
That’s like Christopher Reeve doing the crip walk.
Little brats yellin ‘Trick or Treat’ all through my screen door,
When y’all should be at home sleep,
Instead of at my front porch 15 deep.
The jack o’ lantern came in handy…
I can turn my porch light out like I ain’t got no candy.
But ain’t that somethin?
You buy a Halloween costume and a pumpkin,
Almost gave your children a heart attack.
It’s a tradition, but who the hell started that?
Look inside my soul and you can find gold and maybe get rich.
Look inside of your soul and you can find out it never exists…
Imagine Rock up in the projects where them niggas pick your pockets,
Santa Claus don’t miss them stockings, liquor spilling, pistols popping,
Baking soda Yola whipping, ain’t no turkey on Thanksgiving,
My homeboy just domed a nigga, I just hope the Lord forgive him.
Let bygones be bygones…but where I’m from,
We buy guns and more guns, to give to the young.
Footballs, basketballs, microphones, gas and grass…
Just some of the few things that J-Ro likes to pass.
You’re a trivial part in a trivia game.
Now what’s your aim? A presidential campaign?
Like Ross Perot? He lost it though…
But he got a billion in tha bank fo’ sho’!
You’s a nigga everybody diss, cause you can’t bust this,
You got a bad name like Dick Butkus.
Cause the boyz in the hood are always hard,
You come talkin’ that trash, we’ll pull your card.
Knowin’ nothin’ in life but to be legit,
Don’t quote me boy, cause I ain’t sayin’ shit.
6’n the mornin’ police at my door,
Fresh Adidas squeak across the bathroom floor.
Out the back window I make a escape,
Don’t even get a chance to grab my old school tape…
I show more blind rage than Stevie Wonder and Ray Charles wrestling in a steel cage.
Set me up, wet me up, niggas stuck me up…
Heard the guns bust, but you tricks never shut me up.
Fuck the car, I do a muthafuckin’ walk-by.
I’m Ready to Die without a Reasonable Doubt
Smoke Chronic and hit it Doggystyle before I go out.
Until they sign my Death Certificate, All Eyez on Me
I’m still at it, Illmatic, and that’s The Documentary.
Slim Shady: Hotter then a set of twin babies
In a Mercedes Benz, with the windows up
When the temp goes up to the mid 80’s.
I got a funny feeling like something was real wrong…
Looked at her shoes and her feets was real long!
Then it hit me, Oh please God no,
Don’t let this ho turn out to be a John Doe…
He pulled a fast one on me, yo!
Using numerology to count the people I sent to heaven,
Produces more digits than 22 divided by 7.
I make chicks consider themselves widows whose husbands ain’t even died yet.
I’m a menace to society,
But girls in biker shorts are so fly to me.
After the date, I’mma want to do the wild thing…
You’re talkin’ lobster? I’m thinkin’ Burger King.
Money…really wasn’t part of the rap.
Paid…was havin’ people start to clap.
Hits from the bong
Make me feel like Cheech,
And I’m kickin’ it wit’ Chong.