Lyrics:
with your girl, it's just somethin' 'bout her
I'm havin' fun with her, you better come get her
I fuck her face, bust one on her concealer
And make
"Letter to John Pace Seavering from Denis McCleary
Dated 12 June 1936"
Dear John
Yes, I'm writing
After all this time
How's the publishing game
fine
Got my partners from Oakland doin' serious time
You can't argue with the truth, it's hard to be black
But it's a mind game and you gotta deal
on the Grey Hound for the first time
Said goodbye to my family for what I thought might be the last time
Three days later I'm downtown for the first time
the town
For the words on the sound
You could sell it by the pound
Now my pockets getting hefty we ain't talking about that now
Let me tell you we got here
time
But by the time you're all caught up
I'd have been bent and broken boundaries all across the boarders
From the US to Honduras
Spain to Singapore
a spokesperson for a generation
Within the same old fear of a Black planet
Twenty years of blood, sweat
No tears for fanatics
So damn it, if times is hard, time is
franchise of all time
Another in the top five
No legacy can top mine
I stepped out the genre
Dropped billion dollar hit's
While your non-horror flicksdo they
of TV I was ready to scream.
So I called up this beer drinkin' buddy of mine
And said, "Bill, I ain't havin' a real good time."
He said, "Why don't
hard
So i know i got a blessing next
My name all up in y'all mouth
Like some mucinex
YAHWEH shout out to the man
Cause he been the best
Im havin my way
I'm peepin' out the blinds
See shit, peep shit, I be on it all the time
Stay low, grind hard from a seven to a nine
If I did it, you could do it, you
they goin down like a comet
And when these suckas see by dick they get to hoppin' right on it
Where I'm from we ain't havin' no gangs
But I still flip
go
It's hard to measure the pleasure of havin' you in my presence
Your smile makes me smile, I'll show you my style
You can shop a little bit, I'll
got time to chase 'em
Havin' drug cap
Put the gun on the tire by the hubcap
Runnin' the streets with some Rugrats
They said
"Fuck school" and they love
on every roof
By the light of the neon moon
Santa wrapped his bag with a dixie-flag
He was havin' the time of his life
And you could hear him call
and runnin' hard, hauling ass. 'cause I'm a nigga known for
havin' a notorious past. My mind was slick - my temper was too quick. Now the
FBI's all over my
on the highways of rap
Choked up by the smoke and the charcoal
A lotta stamps and brands, we like a barcode
I'm bashin' all the media strikes to keep the media
on the highways of rap
Choked up by the smoke and the charcoal
A lotta stamps and brands, we like a barcode
I'm bashin' all the media strikes to keep the media
on the highways of rap
Choked up by the smoke and the charcoal
A lotta stamps and brands, we like a barcode
I'm bashin' all the media strikes to keep the media
Put in a hard day's work, get a good nights sleep
I know some of y'all think Colt's kinda odd
But I'm loud, proud and country by the grace of God!
speaking
Soul awakening
Got to be hard so they fear ya
I ain’t playing man
Killa Killa in the mirror
Tell me what you see
Imma killer killer in the mirror
can't stop with the body rock
See I've got heart like John Starks
Hitting mad sparks
Pass me the mic
And I'll be rocking the whole park
I'm the m
can't stop with the body rock
See I've got heart like John Starks
Hitting mad sparks
Pass me the mic
And I'll be rocking the whole park
I'm the m
Now niggaz drink brew, guzzle Lucefer stew
Young E, only eleven, got a three-fifty-seven
And said he sold drugs by day 'cause havin cream was
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