Lyrics:
they rags up
Make them hit them switches up
They say album gang bang with some Nuts
Yo Dre yo homie turn this chronic Up (Hell Yeah)
I hit the switch no
to mention any window to throw it out
Lookin like who don't you want and where it come from
Sippin on chickin wing, smackin on stout
Step to his boys,
Intro
The number one set and sound...live! Ghetto Music. Produced by
KRS One.
Widdy bye bye bye bye bye bye bye
Widdy bye bye bye bye
on the dough
And I won't talk to you
After my next album blow
Since a little nigga I been on my own
Me I hold the chrome
You don't think so respect it or check
don't believe rap is an art
Wake up, shake up, hypocrite look alive
Blastmaster KRS-One will revive
Four or five million still deprived
When out
joint right here?
How many people recognize this song?
This shit right here is called "You Got Me", ya nawmean?
It's on our album which is called
he got nothing left
Oh don't let me talk about me, might take three albums and a movie to understand me
The more you speak, the more they attack,
the bottle
Pro-black I don't pick cotton out a aspirin bottle
Yeah I learned my lessons and heard y'all snitchin'
Witnessin' you rockin' with narcs
down to play with my children
Now I got bands, I'm playin' with millions
But, I can't lie and say, "I don't miss you"
Knowin' the I'm Him album
love Bo Jangles, we know what he came through
But what's your excuse, duke? You talk Black
But your album sound like you give your nuts for a plaque
[Chorus: x2]
[Dre]
No, I ain't never been pimped by the system
That's because I ain't no slave
Don't be trying to sunbathe, never lived off in no cave
The most important artist of this
Generation over 21 Grammy's
6 Consecutive number 1 albums one of the most
Impactful voices to ever grab
grimy niggas don't want to hear it
Niggas take it, soon as they near it, you better fear it
Bronx Bomber, the pretty-fly girl charmer
The black
I got my own flaws too
We all human so don't let the ubsa judge you
Raised by horny teens who would fake love you
Dark skin starting to think that
Feature one two on my album
Cos I like white girls like talcan
And I like black girls like malcom
Black girls i like them white girls
I like them asian
On the real I keep it real under the moon and the sun
It's in my DNA and blood live by the money and gun
Study Art Of War so every single battle is
Tec back and give you a gold black eye, blaow
If I give a nigga a shiner consider the shit designer
I slaughter militant rhymers, hold up
My nigga
drop it, got a album, never
They just hatin' cause my skin, but I'ma prove this shit to them
White, or black, or Asian, Indian, don't mean you can't be
scratches you, 'specially if you black dude
They don't give a shit unless the accused just happen to rap
And they can look good by painting him as bad news
integrity (In that belt called creativity)
But it's not a black corpse, snuffed by a cold world, I keep warm
By burning dead bodies smelling the beats
10 with it, so I ain't gotta rap
But I'm thankful for that, don't mistakin' me, black
Or you'll be stankin' in the back of a fuckin' Cadillac
I'ma
10 with it, so I ain't gotta rap
But I'm thankful for that, don't mistakin' me, black
Or you'll be stankin' in the back of a fuckin' Cadillac
I'ma
What you don't understand
Is that your voice is naturally beautiful
So even your ugly tones are beautiful
And you've gotta understand that about your
like an engine pack
3.50 with the tint look like men in black
Locked in locked in gotta lock in
...
Imma fiend for the green, by any means, I’m
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