Lyrics:
the coroners picking 'em up
Heavy tried to hide his shit, hey nigga I saw you
He said "Why you robbing me? I got nothing but love for ya"
Caught Juvenile for
don't need em
Treat em like we meet em, and never give up freedom
And we only give our number to selected few
And it's best that you, never knew, what
plenty time, we got plenty rhymes
Tell Tim' and Swizz to hit the Insta' Live
I put a mili' on us vers' anybody
That's plenty dimes, niggas been advised
I'm drunk off the liquor
Smokin' funk by the boxes, packin' Glocks is
Natural to eat you niggas like chocolates
The funk baby
(I live for
Immortalz)
And 2Pac Makaveli outlaw Immortalz
You know how we do this shit nigga
Give me my money in stacks
And lace my bitches with dime figures
Real niggas
loose
Looking in the mirror, watching myself lose
Cleaned up in '08, got a job making barely minimum wage
To get into that page
Hit the road with RL,
jabs at em
Hit Rodeo, probably throw a couple bags at ya
In my 2Pac voice - I ain't mad at ya
Take the wheel, see if you can drive while I eat it
'em low, hit 'em low
If I hit 'em high, hit 'em high, hit 'em high
And you hit 'em low, hit 'em low, hit 'em low
Yo, God bless
Pick up your chest
tell em that?)
The case of the misplaced mic
Verse 2 2pac (Rock T)
I'm down with Strictly Dope
(So?) That means I'm more than you can handle
Fuck, watch how I kill 'em
With the funky rhythm
I'll bomb if you don't feel 'em
Piranhas in 'em
Feed my persona as I get deep as Nostradamus
I'm
choppin' up rocks in my rock shop
And label me a drug deala, just anotha hard nigga
Rest in peace to 2Pac and the rest of y'all thug niggas
Playaz
feeling like a muthafuckin'
Boss bangin' 2Pac
High as a muthafuckin' Queensbridge rooftop
Blowing on this purple haze
Feelin' invincible
Sellin' dope, never
break the code? No way
Hit the brakes, when they on patrol? No way
Imagine Rock up in the projects where them niggas pick your pockets
Santa Claus
a crab up his ass like a lobster crawled up there
Two rabbits, a koala bear, and a ball of hair
And you're all aware I don't got it all upstairs
Guess
your hands up!
If you know this how you living, put your hands up!
Where they at?
Put em up!
If you know this how you living, put your hands up
Chrous: The Game
Nigga be easy
Growing up in California believe me
We drive-by, spraying colors for shizzy
Light it up for 2pac and Eazy
Show them
Shitted on 'em
Man, I just shitted on 'em
Shitted on 'em
Put yo' number two's in the air if you did it on 'em
Shitted on 'em
Man, I just shitted
Leave 'em if they actin' too fly for you
All up in yo mix then in somebody else Six
Quick to put your name in some murder one shit
I'm not the one
Walk a- down on camera
Ski mask cover my face up
Skull wallet chain, Santana
Show a real, real, what you made of
Hit 'em in the top right now
Faded
a purpose
I've got 'em filled up with frizzight
Like Mizzike is you all rizzight?
I'm lookin' lurkin' on bitches
Twerkin' for service
The bitches bag is
the wall
Woke up this mornin'
And I hit the wall
I got a right in this crazy world
To live my life like anyone else
How long can I carry this monkey
taxes bitch
It's a new day
New chronic, new hundred spoke, new six tray
New Snoop, new 2Pac, new Doc Dre
A new West Coast to wake up to, Nate
Good
sips of coffee
He poured this wisdom out
Said "If you want my two cents on making a dollar count
Buy dirt
Find the one you can't live without
Get
Demon Loc
Damn too many of my homies got smoked
Before I lost 2Pac I lost my Grand Pa
Tha Raw dogg, I called him pa pa, aah naw
Not Reverend Harris
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