* send corrections to the typist
[Chorus x2]
Them fool hate I got a fancy car (un huh)
Them fools hated it cause I'm buying up the bar (un huh)
Them fools hated it cause I just got out the pin
nigga, my money long and I ain't going back again
[verse 1]
This rap game use to be yours now its not (yup)
I blowed up the spot, got your ass hot, (un huh)
like it or not I'm getting every thing you got
a house on the hill mother fuck this record deal
nigga for real I got mines pushing this weight
not how you got yours scrubbing floors, opening doors and pulling drinks
for white man riding on a swig
now you got-a Benz, shit load of friends
yet you still hate, a nigga fresh out the gate (un huh)
enemy of the state (un huh) rappers love to hate
rhymes by the crate, make these ho's masturbate and don't discriminate
nigga do I put it down like Joe, hell no!
fool I never was a player, I'm shooting not to fail
nigga ain't got a pry walking with this underground gangster shit
stop what you talk
[Chorus x2]
I bring the pain with my label mates, let's get it straight
nigga's use to be thugs now I'm alone at the clubs
whipping on scrubs, dealing with the fuzz
is a mother-fucker blood, now cuze I never was (no no)
who do it like I does in this industry
these mother-fuckers killing me (nobody)
I'm the epitome summing up this underground gangster shit
After "The Last of a Dying Breed," I plant a new seed
smoke it with a new breed, gun concealed
I ain't tripping off this record deal, and that real
hittin licks with my seal, getting money like O'Neal
who's the dirty south finest? (me) hip hop your highness (me)
take it from the realest you know
I've been beaten on the wall since 86
rapping 'bout clicks penitentiary 10 by 4 in my cell bumpin
now I'm at the clubs toast to my thug niggas
[chorus x3]