Lyrics:
Godde
___________________________________________________________
The cops in The background while 2Pac speaks:
Cop:
A Srg a we've got a 2Pac
From the cradle to the grave
Life ain't never been easy, livin' in the ghetto (yeah, yeah)
From the cradle to the grave
Life ain't never been easy
Back from the dead eazy-E, 2016
With my mothafuckin' nigga DJ Chop
With the homie 2Pac back up, Back up
Motherfuckers are 2 Hot
Now, ever since
hoes like these new thots
A few not usual
Been groupies for thirty years
Been to 2Pac funeral told my daughter
"Can't nobody tell you you not beautiful"
the finger on MTV
2Pac Shakur, he was born to be a renegade
A product of the streets
Now look at what our streets done made
And took away all in the course
a 2Pac moment (2Pac)
Fresh hold nigga with the Guwop stomach
(Guwop)
Spin through your block with the uwop bustin'
(Blaow) ran through the east, like
Who
Two private Jets what this nigga's worth
Atlanta, Miami, Rosé
We like 2Pac infante
They sent my nigga on house arrest
I'm coming through nigga
it, street game Fugazi
I'm elevated to the top of this shit
Done fucked around and put me and 2Pac on the bitch
And you can tell 'em "Thug Life" was
my nigga seeing 6 figures
Black bottles popping when I'm on the turf
Two private Jets what this nigga's worth
Atlanta, Miami, Rosé
We like 2Pac
shit that got Big and 2Pac killed (it's Gucci)
Haha
Okay
For the record, this is not a diss record
It's just the truth
It's Gucci, the livin'
shit that got Big and 2Pac killed (it's Gucci)
Haha
Okay
For the record, this is not a diss record
It's just the truth
It's Gucci, the livin'
it, street game Fugazi
I'm elevated to the top of this shit
Done fucked around and put me and 2Pac on the bitch
And you can tell 'em "Thug Life" was
tube socks spraying from the rooftops
92' props
Banging for my blue tops
It's me and you Ock, Biggie verses 2Pac
And you forgot
I'm the one who let you
mas na
Voy modo 2pac Ah
Me siento un B-boy
En bases suelto pasos
Como rapero mi letra
En el graffiti son trazos
Muros de papel
No lo suelen entender
the ground my niggas is going down
40 on the pound im steppin in london town
Tim westwood we smoking the best good
Tell a motherfuckas i ain't 2pac
But you'll
From the cradle to the grave
From the cradle to the grave
From the cradle to the grave
From the cradle to the grave
June 16th, 1971 mama gave birth
of 2pac man you should see we resemble
And now I'm bringing old school back like transformers assemble
Don't need to settle for a level I achieved in
shallow graves
Like shoop-shooby do-bop
Honorable Elijah, Reverend Doc
Then Stokeley, 2Pac
Type of dude to turn your girl's
Vagina to a tube sock
Stock,
That's when the profit is controlled
I seen this before with 2Pac and this is old
Sony recycled Michael with that album and it sold
'Cause fans are really
Yeah
Rest in peace to the one and only 2Pac
Hardcore from the brain
Let's fuckin do this
I ain't got no time for people actin like punks everywhere I
growing like little lion zombie, seeing my self over notorious Bad than 2PAC
Arrangeing my pack to the world.
Bringing devastation upon you fake Niggas
Walking down this lonely road tryna find my way
I feel like I can't walk no more, but I can fly away
Tryna get like 2pac living better days
But
out here grinding I'm independent and you know that I still keep that glock with me
So come and shop with me
Man I still wish that 2pac was living it's
2Pac's day
Me and Church the new version
Of 2Pac and Dre then
And I don't chase fame I
Let the fame chase me
And I ain't gonna change or
Let the change
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