Lyrics:
on an LP
Take me to ER ASAP for an IV
Motherfuck JLB, they don't support no hip hop
They say that's where it ends, the closest they gon' come is 2Pac
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
all ages
Ha-Hallelujah I'm the Hollygrove 2Pac
Roc-a-fella new rock hundred K in a shoebox
AK and a new Glock, a-what-baba-lou-bop
Pray the vest you
the second Celebrity Deathmatch (ding ding)
So tell the medic to bring the medication and quickly (hurry up man!)
I'm sicker than a 2Pac dedication to Biggie
Rowdy)
Wish Nipsey was alive and they killed 6ix9ine
Nip was like Malcolm X and 2Pac combined
He probably kickin' it with Martin Luther King up in
a ratchet, what's good?
It happens in Compton, happens in Queens, happened to Big L
Happened to Chinx and 2Pac in that passenger's seat
Sometimes it's
Mr. Did her wrong
Mr. Sing a song
Hit a bong, Mr. Cheech and Chong
Mr. In my zone
Mr. 2Pac Herringbone, on my collar bone
Heat is on, mister
Mr.
the crack spot with a laptop
Bumpin' that Biggie Smalls and 2Pac
French braid and weed heads
Where'd all these niggas come from with these dreads?
Swang affiliate, X.O. sip, a gold getter
With the rest to gather, my cold killer
It's "Me Against the World" like 2Pac
And like Biggie, I'm "Ready
passion
It'll blow your mind hey throw up your legs
Wrap your shit around my back
It's a west side bang fucking
Hoes around the map
? get down with 2Pac
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
shots got the game hot
They even flipped on 2PAC
Snoop Doggy Dogg put the West Coast in gear
Dr Dre, NWA, Eazy E's in here
I want to tell
begging me
You know what you should've capped like 2pac with a glock
They're deadly, better not upset my thug mentality sucker
You know you done fucked
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
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
niggas gettin' rolled up
You think not gettin' dropped
We can handle this
'Cause 2Pac brain locked on a cannabis
Days are dangerous, shoot 'em
But you
(Onion)
Smokin' ounces up to my brain
Young nigga just thuggin' (Thuggin')
2Pac all eyes on me
My car collection is crazy (Crazy)
Kush connection is Mainy
They say Henny make the world go 'round
2Pac wouldn't been shit without his mama
Obama wouldn't be shit without his mama, and his baby mama
See
city sweltering hot
Staggering, drunker than those cops that 2Pac shot
I was a crook by the train with that iron thing, concealed
Reaching, soon as I
my vision
Right on time with mine thanks to them old Doc prescriptions
West side flourishin' again, this what 2Pac envisioned
Obama freein' lifers
How can Lynch be wrong?
How can 2Pac be wrong? Bitch!
Come gangsta
Throw your rags in the air
And know that nobody there
Will compare to your
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
good?
It happens in Compton, happens in Queens, happened to Big L
Happened to Chinx and 2Pac in that passenger's seat
Sometimes it's internal, happens
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'
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