Lyrics:
'scuse me on my 2Pac
Keep your head up, when did you stop, loving thy
Color of your skin? Color of your eyes
That's the real blues, baby, like you met
This stupid nigga got rhymes like
You told Passwurdz that 2Pac was only
Known for being well paid
But the only thing that he
Was really known for
Was for
the candle lit, my nigga never rowed
Niggas caught him slipping, gave him a shit bag
Five shots to the stomach, 2Pac gift pack
It's death row, conspiracy
the candle lit, my nigga never rowed
Niggas caught him slipping, gave him a shit bag
Five shots to the stomach, 2Pac gift pack
It's death row, conspiracy
granny house with vanilla wafers
This the remedy, the seperation
2Pac of my generation
Blue pill in the fuckin' Matrix
Red rose in the gray pavement
how you act when you pull back all them curtains?
Do he think I'm 2Pac 'cause I'm black and put them works in?
Does he know his daughter might have
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
still dissin', wonderin' why I ain't sayin' it
I can smell the setup, that's that 2Pac in Vegas hit
I revealed myself and some don't know what to make
out some Hen
This my dedication, my nigga 2Pac
And you can best believe -
That it won't stop, uh
You should've known that I'd be coming back
Especially
jack in my lab, don't wanna see 2Pac
Got two spots, a new lot, flooded with rocks
Shoot-outs makin' me hot, crooked cops Bad Tony and the ball drop
In
jack in my lab, don't wanna see 2Pac
Got two spots, a new lot, flooded with rocks
Shoot-outs makin' me hot, crooked cops Bad Tony and the ball drop
In
never would tic and never do toc (Chuh)
Like I'm rapping myself into learnin' brew hops
Rappin' like I ain't never did a record with 2Pac
Like I
on Channel 7 he do beats for 2Pac
Now coming out the spring from Heaven
Ya know my piece is, hotter than grease is
With no wrong way to eat
Ya face like
Mister, that Mister, Bobby Bands
Mr. Long, Mr. Get-Her-Wrong, Mr. Sing-A-Song
Hit the bong, Mr. Cheech and Chong, Mr. In-My-Zone
Mr. 2Pac Herringbone,
so you put me on Big and 2Pac
'Fore we came a long way, L.A. With B and Jay
Or flyin' to Coachella playing Spades on PJ's
Gimme three days, my
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
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
we had 2Pac
An old boom box, chilling in our tube socks
And plus Dre taught us how to roll a 64
And Snoop Dogg taught us how
To roll a sticky dro
So if
man… wanna dedicate this song to a
Few of my loved ones that went on to Heaven
Big Herk magic and Chastity Johnson
Nate Dogg 2Pac
And if you’ve every
corner riding with him ha Ha
All they see is black venom
Then my silhouette
Just watch the fear reappear in they
Eyes when I hit the set
Oh no, 2Pac wit'
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.
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
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
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
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