Lyrics:
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'
the stash box popped 2 glocks
Peace "All Eyez On Me," 2Pac
Everybody know he a boss he still gotta floss
He on the same bullshit that sent Gotti up north
(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
that shit, I'll knock you out
A nigga be pickin' you up off of the ground for thinkin' you 2Pac
And shawty give me neck till I pass out
And she just
shit hook up
Though how that shit hook up?
Can I get some?
I love that ghetto shit (That ghetto shit)
I love that 2Pac shit (2Pac shit)
I'm that nigga
my adversaries they don't understand what we go through
To become a man, we sheddin tattoed tears
Chorus: 2Pac + Young Noble
I said many times
like I'm 2Pac
I'm talkin' trap shit every time
That the beat drop
Too much drip I might need a mop
Keep a stick by the door when
I'm in the trap spot
Opp
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
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
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
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
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
on girlfriend, I'm just messing wit' ya
You know I never play you
Out like a velcro mustache
Especially when you're giving up 'nough ass
And it don't stop on 2Pac
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
gangsta)
Play or stay (gangsta)
Yeah, yeah (gangsta, gangsta)
Death Row
Yeah, yeah, my nigga 2Pac rest in peace
Dogg Pound
Dippin' real hard y'know
the pen like my cousin Bud
Lunatic Insane, and my partner T-Love
Big Tom, Ray Ray, Killa Cuddy, Mac Dre
Cleek, Jamal, Jinx and Bluebonic, man
[ 2Pac ]
Now
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.
talkin' 'bout we gotta move
Eviction notices, I got 'em too
Movin' dolo, this was not a group
Knockin' 2Pac and a lot of Snoop
Got the hang of this shit
Latifah, the Queen of the flavor
And nothing weaker behind is watching, kick her
The Digital Under-the-Underground, rocks with Shock and 2PAC
With Money
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
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
with the pokers
If we catch an opp, we gon' slump 'em
In my city, they treat me like 2Pac
By myself, bitch, I'm ridin' with two Glocks
They tell me
to win
Diz to the outside, 2Pac up the center
A ten minute game and we were the winners
The boys started smackin', talkin' that slack and
till he see
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