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Hey 'Pac, it's yo' boy Hey man so far I've been listenin' to your album And I ain't heard nothin' you could kick back and smoke a beadie to You
Man you hell of a pussy for The shit you did last night I could tell you nervous right now by How you moving your hands right Yeah please don't fuck
they rags up Make them hit them switches up They say album gang bang with some Nuts Yo Dre yo homie turn this chronic Up (Hell Yeah) I hit the switch no
next morning GOOD AM album bumping I be like the moon Coming out when the sun gone All black clothes coming out when the sun gone Your girl with me
It couldn't hurt to come and vacuum Before I sell off the house Before I stop talking 'bout this and the story fades into black Where's the remote
Cole World, DJ Khaled! Yeah, back from the dead Like Michael Jackson in red jackets, with naps in my head Who's white or black, it's a rare package
scratches you, 'specially if you black dude They don't give a shit unless the accused just happen to rap And they can look good by painting him as bad news
Covers, videos and all that shit Fuck you post-Drake-ass cliche-jerking, LA-Slauson rapping Fuck-nigga-ass Hypebeast niggas, now back to the album
One man, honcho truck load, ammo All black, suit and tie, don't move in camo Gloves on, no Evie Trigger finger forever ready One man, one machete Out
these people albums I'm a charity too I produce my own beats I write by myself 'cause I'm a lyrical G Record my own vids Make a whole doc Do my own media
My chain hang like outties I’m outtie like the outro Every fives seconds man I drop Another album ( Verse 1 ) My body donated to this
I dropped banger albums back to back Whatever it takes to put the city on the map The lost souls just keep fallin through the cracks Ridin in our old
drop it, got a album, never They just hatin' cause my skin, but I'ma prove this shit to them White, or black, or Asian, Indian, don't mean you can't be
motherhood And we fall out of touch In your absence I write songs again every day Haunted by ghosts of the dope ass albums you would've made Until two years
Tec back and give you a gold black eye, blaow If I give a nigga a shiner consider the shit designer I slaughter militant rhymers, hold up My nigga
the wheel Rolls emblem, Black Virginian Pull in a neighborhood I don't blend in Album of the year contender every year The kitchen's full of work It's
most my favorite albums had covers by Pen & Pixel My pops had that 5.0, no tinted windows Swear i used to rock Geneva's with pride, til Pimp had dissed
fret I just relapsed grab a pack Missed my shot so call me Shaq Hate my style I love attacks Bootleg Hov the album black Used to watch fiends sniffing
I need premium To fly higher than helium Try to get to Elysium That's why I never listen to Jay Z Albums costing so much that it's making me crazy I
into the deep end By unpopular demand But what I been through’s what I wrote through I cuss, fuss, but courteous as fuck when I approach you This album's
tribute, it won't take long I've made some stuff rhyme and I've recorded this song You had a hit album called Back To Black But then you got addicted
tell you right now Golden Black up next Crunches for 6 years Now I'm walking on my own All I have to say I was never fooled by these hoes All bout my
this Ain't nowhere to run, ain't nowhere to hide Ain't nowhere to go, Reaper's saved your soul Surrounded by the colors, I see crimson, black
Happy holidays Let me come here and talk to you I gotta stop sayin' I'm not doin' this shit no more knowin' I'm cappin' (Great John on the beat by
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