Lyrics:
your assumption, economical destruction
[Lil Wayne Scream]
[Verse 2 - Lil Wayne]
What is your fucking problem, Im from the fucking bottom
I got a bunch
label
If I did this whole rap game be unstable
Went over to Arista wit Mr. Davis, for the change of neighbors
It's only fair that we share those
to call me Lil' Rock
Skinny big head nigga with a rock
And I ain't talkin' 'bout the hard
Even though my fam used to keep the grams in the socks, damn
from Brooklyn, and I don't know the block
I met him at the flicks he commented on my rocks
We rolled back to back, while I was slinging raps
He was
a key let me blow this track
I gotta pay homes to my P. Way back
How will Lil' Kim are huntin' the rap game
And now the dreams are same, but the game
like gnats, G7 raps
Retired now I'm back, I relapsed, we bringin' that heat back
Like July, that real shit, no two-ply
Bitches, I've been plottin'
with aluminum
Then I'm putting two in 'em
You can't touch me, I've been devil sent, wanted for embezzlement
A lot of other things, but that's
Southernplayalistic ATLiens in your sock drawer
No lockjaw, we got that raw shit and all the trimmings
Even though we got two albums, this one feel like the beginning
and Heavy D up in the limousine
Hangin' pictures on my wall
Every Saturday Rap Attack, Mr. Magic, Marley Marl (that's right)
I let my tape rock 'til my
Mr gangsta ganasta how ya do dat
I'm a tru tankdawg & all ya'll niggaz already knew that
I got 2 kids in the back seat of my tank
And 4
'm lookin' can you help me out
I need a lil' bit and quick, you dig what I'm talkin' bout?
[Bad Azz]
Hey D-O-G, I got some Chronic, see I'm on my way
I
Southernplayalistic ATLiens in your sock drawer
No lockjaw, we got that raw shit and all the trimmings
Even though we got two albums, this one feel like the beginning
you sign, Mr. Ghostface, package for a friend, here
Right by the X, my bad, here's a pen
[Method Man]
Gucci flip flops, I box my way to the kitchen
crates up
I'm still hungry and I'm back with a tapeworm
And we're what's happening in rap entertainment
Me and Shady, far as competition, faggot, there
needs (Jesus, Lord)
Sittin' by myself, I'm just thinkin'
About all I've been through, I wish I was dreaming (Jesus)
Man, it's hard to be an angel
the rap level of ten
Then one, two, three, you're pinned
I get action, so everybody jump wit your rump
If you like the way the sound bump, pump it in
on point, never skip of slip
My bitch stay tryin' to kill me like Mrs. Smith
If I carry two cannons, no time to pull out
I bust through the side of my
I own a mansion, but live in a house
A king-size bed, but I sleep on the couch
I'm Mr. Brightside, glass is half full
But my tank is half empty,
rap-rapping that block
We them Brick Squad, ask Flocka
Beside this shit, Silkk The Shocker
Coulda been San Quentin on lock
But I two door that ghost
I
{"Testify!"}
[Styles P:]
Time I testify, listen
Why Malcolm get killed by the N.O.I.?
I'm yellow but I'm dark for real
And why nobody flip when
I ain't finna give you- (shh)
Birds in the trap, they gon' stink by tomorrow
Servin' the Act' out a baby bottle
Smoke a lot of K2, I don't want
can't understand
How one real nigga became a real man
S is for the way I skeet in they mouth
One by one we muttin' 'em out
Man, them other niggas, y'all
brains in the fast lane
A seventeen-year reign, simple and plain
When I ruled the rap game and all my peers sold cocaine
One-three-two Uptown, when Rich
Mama-say-mama-sa-ma-macosa
Ja, quit playin', knock it off, you're not 2Pac
Don't hate me, I'm too hot and you're not
Shooting at me, with the only shot you got
Ja, quit
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