Lyrics:
hips and slingin' your head
Side to side with your drink in the air
Lord have mercy now girl I swear
Gotta get your number in my phone
Gotta get me
baby, I know what you know
We can feel it
And all the pieces fall
Right into place
Getting caught up in a moment
Lipstick on your face
So it goes
how
I could get out a pocket for fun
When you know that
You're never number two
Number one's gonna be number one
I'll be good
I wish I could
you see blurred lights
You on your third strike
Talkin' to myself my homies call me crazy
Livin' by myself my mama say I'm lonely
Sleepin' by
lookin at your picture my nigga
puttin hash with the weed wit a mixture of liqour
we can't kick it you ain't wit us is the shit i can't figure
nigga
misinterpreted
I'm the get back, I'm the first to hit
I'm the worst of it, lurkin' on your premises
I am your nemesis
Parents of every slain rapper wish I
'em, yell up
outta my ghetto, I won't settle, get on my level. They can't stop me
and pop me. Nigga, they got me? Fuck no. Little Pac
gets
I look deep in your eyes
I can guess your zodiac sign
We ain't got nothing but time
We can just chill and unwind
Get comfortable, comfortable
Get
ki's, I'mma get him, think I won't? (better get'em)
And my nigga 2Pac got the fucking Glock cocked, and he's ready
When the kid, didn't even bring
2-Pac with a glock
They're deadly better not upset my thug mentality sucker
You know you done fucked up don't you niggas
Runnin' up blastin' big ass
Now I've got heartaches by the number
A love that I can't win
But the day that I stop counting
That's the day my world will end
Heartache
'm waiting on this nigga Wise, three loaves for two pies
Son he smokin' that shit, I can see it in his eyes
Comin' up Wise, and locs is close
And locs ride
Can a, can a drummer get (Boss)
Can a, can a drummer get (Black Wall Street)
Can, can a drummer get (Maybach Music)
(Can a drummer get some?)
2Pac
on 'em
Shitted on 'em
Put your number two's in the air if you did it on 'em
All these bitches is my sons
And I'ma go and get some bibs for 'em
'm the coldest white rapper in the game
Since the one with the bleached hair
Yeah, they love it when I talk shit
I get around, yeah I'm on my 2Pac shit
I kinda
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
nigga, Baby, he get his shine on
I'm a hard stuntin' nigga like Evil Knievel
Jumpin' out Lex's and Hummers, showin' off for my people
I'm the number
the sky (sky), my eyes open wide (ayy, bro, is that Jambo?)
All eyes on me, but I'm no 2Pac
I'm a Goat, I'm a boss, I'm a leader (woo)
Won't settle 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
you mothafuckers want Shady)
The lost begotten seed of 2Pac (if Pac was still here now)
To lead this industry into the ways of the man (he would never
passion
It'll blow your mind hey throw up your legs
Wrap your shit around my back
It's a west side bang fucking
Hoes around the map
? get down with 2Pac
ain't come over here to get
Strokin' and all that bullshit
You came over her to get fucked
I fuck you thug style, baby
You leave my house sayin'
2Pac game
you, numbers are out to get you
Numbers, ooh
I hear the sadness in your life, girl
So call on me and tell me what you need
Just call on me and tell
I could hurt this way
And heartache number two was when you come back again
You came back but never meant to stay
Yes, I've got heartaches by
_1895-6.jpg/300px-Lautrec_la_troupe_de_mlle_eglantine_(poster)_1895-6.jpg "Can Can")
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