Lyrics:
Let me talk to you nice for a second, lil shordy come chill in my section (My section)
When I'm rapping I'm giving out lessons, when I'm wrong come
I'm up in the section, giving directions
Bitch come right here, I see you flexing
Pass me that drink, come get your blessin
Got bro by me, no time
When I go to heaven
Put some gangstas in my section im like
Whatever
Tell the reverend its whatever
And if I go to hell
Im having shootouts with
necklace
But these ain't no rhinestones ho' these vvs's
Ain't gettin no money can't sit in my section
Say he a gangsta ain't got no protection
I'm facing
Just cooling on you I ain't stressing
I got way too many blessings
And not a lot of people in my section
This my life Ion gotta embellish
I know God
Lil' nigga, big steppa, (huh)
I roll with killas in my section, (huh)
In the foreign, drivin' reckless (Skrrtt)
On the phone talkin' bout money, I ain't
Watch me walk up in the club with all my jewelry on
Watch me buy a section
I ain't flexing, you see what I'm on All I get is paper bad broad on my
bitches half a G then gave it all to charity
Don't came around in my section while I'm tweakin off them terpenes
223 shells out the G, got drank got lean
we some noya type of niggas
Just because you ain't in black and white don't mean that you official
Got some demons in my cup and in my section poppin
cause I put it down better, like
The ice on my necklace, make her act reckless, when she in my section, like
She pray for a blessing, back in the day I
with me through it all?
Nobody!
The Moscow Circus
Hired me to fly trapeze
On Mount Olympus,
Ran a race with Hercules
It's easy when you're chased by
of paper
And I splurged, I guess it's just the nigga urge
This is The Boondocks
I swear yo I'm like Huey mixed with Riley
Thursday I be trynna save
isn't anybody Backing us up!
When they c these crooked ass Redneck cops
Constantly Jacking us up
Now I bet some punk will say I'm racist
I can tell by
don't get hit by the bolt of lightning
Striking you down 'cause you're fronting
A dead leader can't tax your mind
Therefore he's not a threat to your
Killers in my hood, they know me by my first name
You know 'em by their work name, I know 'em by their birth name
Type of weight make a man stand
I am Trugoy
A Dove-like boy
Could wingspread
But instead
I will employ
Me, the Plug Three
Or Baby Huey
I eat up
All ketchup
For its
Unsigned Hype
'Til I was crushed by Dave Mays, almost let my pen fall asleep on the page
Daydreamin' yesterday, dozin' off backstage
I thought I saw Eazy
masons
Pregnant teens give birth to intelligent gangsters they daddies faceless
Play this, by ya stomach, let my words massage it and rub it
I'll be his
closed casket, his family needs a closure
And Moses had ten commandments, Huey had ten points
Won't see my homie for ten, dropped him off at the joint
Put it by, put it by, put it by, put it by
Put it by number one phenomenon
Come follow me now, mon
'cause Mr. Chip Fu is the Don
I think I'll tikki
kinda blessed so I wrote this manifesto for life
Co-signed by the others with a knife
On the real tip let's take a field trip from the ghetto
You pick
Martin, Malcolm, Huey P. Newton
And that's why the whole city out here looting
How can we stand here and not do shit?
All this smoke over the hood
this shit dun, it's nothin' to laugh at
I hops in the V, grabs the heat and I stash that
I'm in tune with Doc, Pac, and Huey, it's a rap.
I traveled
ever believed in
By peeping your deepest secrets like psychic readers
What's the matter with ya'll, I splatter ya'll
Against the muthafuckin wall with
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