Lyrics:
(Yeah)
Niggas wanna hit me like I'm 2Pac (Yeah)
Bad bitch fuck me in my Gucci tube socks (Yeah)
'Member when I spent my re-up on a oowop, whoa
Your
the corner all eyes on me
Like I'm 2Pac niggas envy wanna shakur me
Haters, why get mad? I get paper
All black Camaro lookin like Darth Vader
Diamonds in ma
of there
Same place you put your hat
My niggas throwing hollows there
I'm loading up the oo-wop listening to 2Pac
I'm a dope boy so the money in the shoe
On yo' block you prolly bred a Fat Pat or 2Pac
Or Big Pun, or B.I., ya homeboys from knee, high
And even when it was storming outside, that nigga'd be by
or the
Legs of a hoochie
And that's off top like a toupee, I'm 2Pac
Coming back for doomsday, spitting at cops
Go and cop my album
Get high to it, pop some
fear, sittin around watchin muthafuckas die
The faces of death
Who coulda predicted 2pac would be next?
Read ghetto text: if you live by the sword
to wish that I was 2Pac
Then I realized that might get you shot
Figured I just gonna be myself though
Niggas hate me, Documentary on they shelf though
In
am here to collect
We the big boys and we here to come flex
You fit tap to connect
All eyes on me i dey feel like 2pac
Oga get money make you forget
my vision
Right on time with mine thanks to them old Doc prescriptions
West side flourishin' again, this what 2Pac envisioned
Obama freein' lifers
be hitting switches
Calling 2Pac daddy
It ain't my fault that she's sprung on me
And ain't it fun I make her cum
Put her tongue on me
That's
my nigga seeing 6 figures
Black bottles popping when I'm on the turf
Two private Jets what this nigga's worth
Atlanta, Miami, Rosé
We like 2Pac
wrecked on a crew if they diss
Cause 2Pac and Foxxx'll die for this
I don't GO for it, never have and never will
I call shots for my crew
If you step you
the credit went to Elvis
Know you never knew that, know you think I'm too black
I just think I'm too real, I grew up on 2Pac
You grew up thinkin' that
a bitch
I'll dare ya ass to try to run that 2PAC shit
I goes high-ho silver like the fuckin' Moan Ranger
Playin' here's out my dick inside a total
know that doo-doo
Ipod blastin', 2pac yeah hit em up
Chow down, spit em up
Black bag, get em up
Call the chef tonight, were having sinners for dinner
block you prolly bred a Fat Pat or 2Pac
Or Big Pun, or B.I., ya homeboys from knee, high
And even when it was storming outside, that nigga'd be by
That's
Turned around, shot him with the same Glock
So you say you shot him with the same Glock
Young nigga feeling like 2Pac
Still will hit a nigga with
got faith
You don’t listen to ya feelings
Something in the air I don’t feel good
(Feel good, feel good, feel good, feel good)
Life tryna 2Pac the dog
shit that got Big and 2Pac killed (it's Gucci)
Haha
Okay
For the record, this is not a diss record
It's just the truth
It's Gucci, the livin'
shit that got Big and 2Pac killed (it's Gucci)
Haha
Okay
For the record, this is not a diss record
It's just the truth
It's Gucci, the livin'
it, street game Fugazi
I'm elevated to the top of this shit
Done fucked around and put me and 2Pac on the bitch
And you can tell 'em "Thug Life" was
a beach, so you rot in the wave
Man, I'm so glad that Guwop out
And rap fans still give a fuck what 2Pac 'bout
I'm right here, I don't give a fuck who hop
sweeper with a K
Nigga, this is 2Pac mixed with the old Guwop
15 years, 30 mil', nigga, who flopped?
One good song, but you ain't got a classic yet
You ain't gotta ask if she digg me, of course she did I'm witty
I'm a product of my city, that 2Pac and that Biggie
My jewels pop with that pretty
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