Lyrics:
you ain't gotta ask (Uh, uh)
Way before the quarantine, I was in a mask
Asked niggas for six feet
Pop 'em in the ass you rap it like a G
Wasn't poppin'
Ladies and gentleman
I know you were very surprised when
You heard for the first time
50 Cent is running for the president
I like to thank you
For
the best
Therefore, hard to tell
You dropped me off by the dungeon
Never came in, but I knew that you were wondering
Now are these niggas in this house
game 20 pounds, but all my niggas still crush
Still stack chips galore
Chicks want out the ghetto, try to hit you raw
Better know that everything I
album was the first album
With the real sound that
Electric punk rock became
"We are from the Lower East Side
We don't give a damn if we live or die
We
drawn by Shirt Kings
I been fuckin' they hustle, married to a racket
Since the first Air Jordan's and Starter jackets
I slept with a package, under
of five year old girls engage in deliberate dietary restraint-
When we used to run our webcam studio, we know how sad men are because we saw it first hand
the mornin', that's fine
Now I suggest you hit the block and get what's rightfully mine
I want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains
I got niggas my pop's age that
Travel all the way down to your leg
Ayo, it's Hell on Earth
Whose necks are gonna be first?
The projects is front line
And the enemy is one-time
I
I lost my first record deal in ten months
Blinded by the light from
Let's run to redrum
Now I see it twenty twenty
Like Dateline, you can't rush in
the mornin', that's fine
Now I suggest you hit the block and get what's rightfully mine
I want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains
I got niggas my pop's age that
the pop direction
You're 'bout to find out right now, tell me what ya reckon?
Twenty twenty's here, you won't believe what's 'bout to happen
That album
Freeing the damned by being free as I am
And speaking belief into people sittin' with reason to stand
Who just might be needing a hand
I got you
9th
or the
Legs of a hoochie
And that's off top like a toupee, I'm 2Pac
Coming back for doomsday, spitting at cops
Go and cop my album
Get high to it, pop some
They
'boutta hit this muhfuckin' album
(Oh oh-Oh, yeah yeah yeah yeah, whoa)
Yeah-Yeah-Yeah-Yeah
I done seen a lot of things, yeah yeah
Nowadays, sit
up
A brand new cut for the Hammer to burn up
Suckers gettin' mad 'cause over 20 million sold
And now they try to diss 'cause they can't get gold
I was
twenties
I tried to become a recording artist and recorded an album of music
My partner producer Paul and I worked 50/50 on a 10 song album that we called
followers on Twitter
I'd like to live in a world where the quality of one's music isn't predetermined by their number of Spotify streams
The head of A&R
money 'till I die, gimme' 25
Man I might not be alive when I'm 25
Thats why I carry 2 nines, n' a 25
And sell 20's, that'll get you dummy high
Bagged in
money 'till I die, gimme' 25
Man I might not be alive when I'm 25
Thats why I carry 2 nines, n' a 25
And sell 20's, that'll get you dummy high
Bagged in
Our programs they have
No substance
But our kids watch them
Our programs they are
Sponsored by
Rich Americans
And if you're one of them
Then you can
Rewind the clip
Yeah, I'll start by taking back
It's Spring of '17
Sitting shotgun there in my car
You said celebrities are sad, no matter how big or small
of a chain I don't feel but I see
Visions from me
At twenty three, making us free in my community
One day is what I live for
Ain't thinking about no hope
life in the culture, I been diggin in crates
Finding records of the past, pop it in and hit play
AngelFire was the illest for art
That was the first time
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