FAKE

ay

Ay yo, shout outs to dexter uh..........

Wating for reasonable explanations

Run at top secret operations

Police stop us in traffic

The school it was catholic

Congratulations, it's blood relations

Nicky Bonds, Nicky Bonds

We outlast and outclass these vagabonds

She wants the big screen

So let me get in clean

we invest in bricks-fuck stocks and bonds

Just Blaze, Freeway! Young Chris! Young Guru!

They gon' keep hatin' it boo

Passin' 'em CREAM, gold watches and large cables

Buy myself a mansion in Florida's Coral Gables

Cause everybody knows how the government do

The pattern has been reformed

Where the mind has been transformed

You see that ain't me

This is how it's done - see

The greatest trick ever performed

Now I'm here and I'm gettin wreck

I paint a picture of the spot well

Play your part braveheart, play your part braveheart

Always searching if I know your heart

To send them muthafucker straight to hell

Nigga in PA, it's like the wild, wild west

I knew it was on nigga stressed god blessed

And stand on our on two feet

Can't keep takin breaks, 'cause he wanna go eat

get yo slide on, get yo ride on, who the best

I'm a, hit 'em with the flow, master mouth

Hold 'em up I'll show you how we rep-in-the-south

And your P.I.-ing don't even move me

Ho I only wanna be

I figure they dig dick - our names out they mouth

Hide the name from the eyes, so far from impact

I'm the W.E.B. Du Bois of the art

Do you know who I am, deliverer of a rhyme

Some more wicket shit for the very last time

I'm a bomber from the heart refresh edit delete source rapgenius

The Pastor, after me, there'll be three

I'ma show you how Cleveland's finest be

Back to the wall, head rested against it

Speed it up a little bit

So rough, so tough, out here, baby

So you got shot, now you're a good MC?

So full steam ahead with the plan, gee

You stuck in low, incapable to master flow

Rollin' with my posse your way, hell no

I'm just an MC, what I be?

They hatin' cuz when they see me I'm havin thangs

Tourist come to California, fear these west coast gangs

Strangling busters that's fakin' on the microphones

Raccoon in the yard, layin' wit drug bones

Chi-town drop the flame, White Boy got them thangs

It's not what you know but what you can prove

Wussup wit' the love, wussup wit' the love?

Here I go again, try'na keep my mothafuckin' ass thin

'Cause I love the eay you look in

And I feel like Ludacris, Bitch you better move

Remember we used to cut and go to other schools

These young dudes who used to be fools

I made 20 dollars, best believe I went back

Hollow your body, and that's a fact black

Just a rubberband on my wrist no jewel