See any could umm… write a rap
But not too many people can paint a picture
I remember what my pops said to me, man
Must’ve been about 12 years old, man
Even niggas can get bitch slapped
Reverse is any rappers a mismatch
Cock back his gat, bangin’ harder than big Shaq
Really wanna risk that?
Havin’ nobody ever get charged with your body
Cuz nobody know where it’s at?
I’m the verbal aristocrat
If everything’s everything and this is that
And when is why and what how it is
Shit is cowardice my poetical prowess as fat as Albert is
Style is wildin’ metallic cuz challengers get the calibers
It was July 5th, takin’ flicks with some chicks but my nigga still behind bricks
Havin’ a bump and a conflict, me and three chocolate hoes
Leanin’ with my foot on top of the Mo’, these hoes in a provocative pose
Outta nowhere came a nigga ’bout 6’6″ 280
Grabbed one of these bitches up and was like “Bitch is you crazy?
Looked over at me, his expression started to switch a bit
Somethin’ told me not to take a picture with this bitch and shit
Tried to tell black “Black, all the beefin’ is wack.
Sorry I hugged your bitch, black. Look I shouldn’t of did that.
Besides, there’s a hundred more bitches that I could spit at.”
He said “fuck a bitch, see this whip a miracle did that.
And you fuck wit ’em I know cuz niggas told me flat out.
Plus on all them songs you on, you be givin ’em shout outs.”
I said “Without doubt and I’m sorry hear about you gettin’ ducked out
But you knew them niggas was fittin’ to duck style.”
He said “So what now?” Took a swing at my left cheek then
3 D’s stepped back and looked around for policemen
But I ain’t seen none, told son gimme the gun
These the only two clips you got son? Emptying one
He said “Sai, what about what we talked about? In the scope about to spit some alters out
Man, he said he heard it from the horse’s mouth
Anything, punch, kick, yap him or pistol smack him B, you ain’t gotta clap ’em B
All that rappin’ I’m goin’ to toss him off this captain B
Shit be havin’ me agony (and plus) I know you ain’t trying to go back G, exactly
What we gon’ do? Just flex in this big S bumpin’ this in the cassette deck
Direct from the projects step, before they can catch it on Flex
Us spittin’ death on the Flex then say yes, (YES)
If you be livin’ for death and don’t be givin’ a f
And then hit a pig in the vest and say yes, YES
If you be puffin’ the cess and layin’ sunk in the S
And then punch a punk in the chest and say yes, YES
If you a gangsta, if you a hustla, and not a busta then say yes, fucker
S to the A
Art of story tellin’, haha
Nobody do it like me nigga, fuck that