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God damn! Drug dealers dealin’ to the kiddies,
Livin’ in the city ain’t no pity on the itty-bitty.
We try to cry, but still they all die,
I try to speak to the youth, and the truth is: they all high.
It don’t make sense: either you a soldier from the start,
Or a actor with a record deal tryin’ to play the part.
We don’t just say “No”, we too busy sayin’ “Yeah!”
To drinkin’ straight out the eight bottle…
Do I look like a muthafuckin’ role model?!
I dispense dope sentences without a prescription.
Prefixes asphyxiate bitches who flips linguistics,
Representin the West, relevant to relentless sentences.
If renegade rebels resent this wicked syntax,
Revert to revolution Ras reverse, reverberates,
Revolvin with written retalliation, rate repetitious.
My first offense was possession of weed,
Now I’m in the major leagues, and
That muthafucka Bill Clinton is a son of a bitch;
Had the nerve to throw out the first pitch.
I’m just tryin’ to get rich like Trump,
The home run king is now in a slump…pass me a hunk.
How the fuck can I stay out the Pen,
When its 1-2-3 strikes, you in?
My mental’s the bullet, my tongue’s the finger that pull it.
We live for they amusement like they view us from behind the glass.
No matter what we grow into, we never gonna escape our past.
So in this cage they made for me, exactly where you’ll find me at;
Whether it’s my time to leave or not, I’ll never turn my back.
Always knew that I would clock G’s,
But welcome to McDonald’s: May I take your order, please?
Gotta serve ya food that might give you cancer,
Cuz my son doesn’t take no for an answer.
Now I pay taxes that you never give me back;
What about diapers, bottles, and Similac?
Do I have to sell me a whole lotta crack
For decent shelter and clothes on my back?
Why they hate us? Why they want to rape us for our culture?
They greet, defeat us, bleed us, then they leave us for the vultures.
They break the brilliant off with millions, tryna to break their focus;
More tan the man, the more alone and hopeless.
They say the richest 400 Americans make more
Than the other 180 million combined,
And if that sounds fair, then you’re out of your mind.
So fuck a Republican, I’m out on my grind,
Cause being poor, being black, and Latino’s a crime.
That’s why we use the underworld to survive,
And I hate to admit I connive, but I’m alive cause I strive.
Make a dollar out a nickel and dime
I’m a hustler, I’m a hustler…
I could sell pussy to prostitutes, you a customer.
Cause when I was low, you was there for me,
And never left me alone because you cared for me.
And I could see you coming home after work late:
You’re in the kitchen trying to fix us a hot plate.
You just working with the scraps you was given,
And Mama made miracles every Thanksgivin’.
Drink Listerine, brush my teeth with amphetamine,
So I can sound fresh and say dope things in between.
Now I’m a veteran, spit a 16 sixteen ways,
Sixteen in a clip, spit it 16 ways.
I know six teens, pull up to a sweet sixteen and spray.
I’m like sixteen Jays, but the beat I can manage,
So every Sweet 16 is like Duke and Kansas.
Before you try to fuck with Ren,
I’ll put two in your ass and you’ll be shittin’ a size 10.
Everybody want to talk about who this and who that,
Who the realest and who wack, or who white or who black.
Critics want to mention that they miss when hip hop was rappin’…
Motherfucker, if you did, then Killer Mike’d be platinum.
I never had real friends ‘til now…
I never had to steal ends cause that’s foul.
I walk the streets with the baseball bat feelin’ secure,
But I try not to incite fights–that’s immature.
Now there she goes again, the dopest Ethiopian,
And now the world around me be gets movin in slow motion
Whenever she happens to walk by, why does the apple of my eye
Overlook and disregard my feelings no matter how much I try?
I guess it’s true what they say:
When you’re too far gone, ain’t no turning back.
And coming from the Compton, mack, that’s a fuckin’ fact.
Want to know my occupation, home location, and means of transportation?
The correct combination unlocked your placenta…
I got a cellular phone with a rubber antenna,
And a 3-story house, drive a 4-door Ac.
Favorite song of all time? Mobb Deep’s ‘Hit It From the Back’
Fuck the police, comin straight from the underground…
A young nigga got it bad cause I’m brown.
And not the other color so police think
They have the authority to kill a minority.
I got Soul Power, never took a cold shower,
Never had a girlfriend the color of cooking flour.
I think back to when I was robbin’ my own kind,
The police didn’t pay it no mind…
But when I start robbin the white folks?
Now I’m in the Pen with the soap-on-a-rope.
I said it before and I’ll still taught it:
Every muthafucka with a color is Most Wanted.
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?
I never rapped on an R&B record, and I never will.
I got these phony muthafuckas talkin bout ‘Let’s keep it real.’
But they don’t know how to take they own advisement,
Going out, do it solo on an advertisement, commercializing.
Fuckin’ sell out, nigga…this is hip-hop, not fashion.
Some people tell me that I need help.
…Some people can fuck off and go to hell.
Everybody looking at you crazy,
What you gon’ do?
Lift up your head and keep moving,
Or let the paranoia haunt you?
Hit the barber for the taper, ‘fore I call Tracy,
Now my ex wanna trace my steps like Dick Tracy.
Chill on the pills love, you think I’m dicking Tracy?
The world is full of bullshitters,
Liars, and triers and quitters,
Coulda-beens, wannabe’s, thought-I-was, isn’t-I-is’s…
And everybody in your business.
Picked up the yoga, put down the soda.
My healthy mind…that’s what’s gon’ help me over.
Life of a stoner (if you still concerned),
I never lose, I only win or learn;
It’s all about your state of mind.
See, it really ain’t about if you eatin’ or not eatin’.
It’s freedom or not freedom. Breathin’ or not breathin’.
Another day, another way, another dollar spent;
Gotta make a revolution out of fifteen cent.
I say ‘cuz’ around Bloods, and I say ‘blood’ around Crips…I’m twisted.
Got Mary, got Lucy, got Molly: that’s wifey, girlfriend and mistress.
We knew we’d be together, we didn’t know when,
But long distance love, never thought it would end.
The feelings never changed until the call came…
You were engaged, I was in pain.
It was such a shame: the timing, it just wasn’t right.
So I say, ‘Good luck,’ and then I say, ‘Good night.’
There comes a time in every man’s life when he’s gotta handle up on his own.
Can’t depend on friends to help you in a squeeze,
Please…they got problems of their own.
Nobody put the crack into the pipe,
Nobody made you smoke off your life.
You thought that you could do dope and still stay cool?
Fool…you played yourself.
Either she love me or she hate me…either way, she crazy.
Real slow hits from the bong…
Make me feel like Cheech,
And I’m kickin’ it with Chong.
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.