Lyrics:
rest in peace
At the age of twenty-three
Pete sakes, got us locked in
Mind frame like it's boxed in
Palace jacket match the army fatigue
I chuck a P
adopted by guerillas
Gotta tank for a car, ice for a arm
Got tattoos wit' skin and scars from brawls
Gotta buildin' for a crib, Manhattan for a backyard
Drivin' down the motherfuckin' highway
The flyway hey bitch you goin' my way?
Now I got a passenger
I look at the miniskirt now I'm askin' her
You know the other side of the pillow never felt this cool
I pity the fool and that's why
I'm so gangsta and it ain't even funny
Got my money on my
down she say she like the big one, meet her right now do you know I gotta get one?
To give me brain like a G, she loves my hair pressed like
[Chorus]
5-1-0 and 2-1-3 is you a baller or a G?
Ha ha ha.
To thug or not to thug?
To G or not to G?
See that's the question.
Every time
the G.O.A.T. I just ball a lot (L)
And (Cool J) I'm double platinum on the hot blocks and
(L) the hottest nigga in the whole spot (L)
And (Cool J) you see my
hat got me lookin' like Pops
But that's cool, 'cause, I'm mackin' anyway
'N your females my prey
'N I'm callin' out skirts like Chuck D
Sista we
bet you shed a tear
(Y.G. Lil'Nyne) I'm in my bag too cash sticcing to me like gorilla glue
Who is this nigga and who is you bitch you got my money
Oh yea
This is for my real fans let me talk about them
Right around with my first album
Remember that shit talk about it
You put me here
M.I 2
talking about justice
I’m like bet that - he like just us
You know, Rock and Roll, that was some shit Chuck Berry came up with
The rock and rollers don’t
even if I don’t know anything I know I’m gonna get the bag
I get the B.A.G
Michael Jackson wid it I be B.A.D
Looking at the leng ting with the T.A.T
I
if you wanna get
A verse from me
Make a diss track if you wanna
Get a hearse from me
I got the gift already so
I fuck bitch ass dick
Shit if you wanna
feed lines to felines just to get up in their tummies quick
Yeah you got tricks but I got five more
So any game you try to play, you better know I got
don't know what direction it's gonna go in
Or at what speed it's gonna go in
This project was like, all over the place
If you listen to Cruisin' By
it right
Don't make a ass outta yourself, by assumin' (yeah, not the mid is low now, turn the mics up some more)
Our music keeps you movin' what are
see Slade and tell him hey whats up
If this song wasn't on replay then you probably playing track one
Because you can go through this album and find
Ayo yo, what's the 411, hun?
(What's the 411, hun?)
I know you got it going on
(Hey yo, I got it going on)
Ayo yo, what's the 411, hun?
(What's
a mile in my shoes, get the street news from Meth-Tical
You gots to be kidding, you gots to be kidding
Ayo kid you gots to be kidding
Allah said it's
somethin' make sure you hear it right
Don't make a ass outta yourself, by assumin'
Our music keeps you movin' what are you provin'?
You know that I'm two
buggin', boy
You know they trained to go
(They was movin')
OG Head got the pole, momma
Love always told me, "Never love a ho"
(Nah)
Got the G's for the low,
daddy's daddy rolled like a stone, denying his lead role
My daddy broke the chain
Far from perfect, close to G.O.D. though
He parented hard like Joe Jackson
that Pimp caught two cases
He got probation, said, "Fuck you hoes"
We finish the album, got ready to do a couple shows
And then he violated, one month
you hoes"
We finish the album, got ready to do a couple shows
And then he violated, one month before we dropped
And shit just got put on hold
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