Puss in Boots 1998

[Intro] What the fuck is all this noise? He from Cali, he can't rap He ain't better than this nigga That's my favorite artist Fuck y'all [Verse] Hear the breakdown, no detox, I'm comfortable dog Like the solo Reeboks right up under me dog And it feel like I done it before Sit in the throne pollutin the airwaves like a Hummer exhaust Don't let Makaveli fool you homie, thugging it costs Pour out a little liquor for the loved ones that we lost You ain't gotta wait for the album I don't fuck with The Source But I turn up my Eazy-E and let it bump in the Porsche I mean turn up my B.I.G. and let it bump in the Porsche Tell 'em to roll red carpet when he come in New York Hip-hop police on me think they runnin New York Till I lace my Air One show 'em how to run in New York They tryna take me downtown put me under the court Cause Joe Buddens told 'em I carry a gun in New York And homey that's strictly fact, he got ripped on wax So he snitched just to get me back No matter what you say dog, your shit be whack You better watch what you say, it might get you clapped Here's a little advice homie, switch your raps Cause that shit on your last album ain't get you plaques What nigga you need a gun? I'll get you that P-89 nigga let Dre stitch you back Web and Nitty street niggas I admit to that But I don't even want your chain, I'll let the Crips do that 12 bars for that bitch, he won't live through that Even a nigga with a ten year bid knew that Put a gun in his mouth yeah, yeah do that He a pussy (sniff, sniff) his own kid knew that I'm Ready To Die, B.I.G. knew that He ain't eatin, look at his white tee you could see his ribs through that You cocksucker, let your wiz do that Or I'll let her do me ooh wee now back to rap 2 Lincoln Continentals sittin back to back Leavin' Jersey City naw nigga, Hackensack Where's that? Somewhere where the crackers at Real far from where the roaches and rats is at Come to Compton I'll show you where the ratchets at Down the street from the Staples Center where they Hack-a-Shaq Give the advance money back, I ain't have to rap Break Harry-O out tell him crack is back That's nine five a bird take half of that Import it, export it in cracker jacks When you get to the projects, ask for Black You know what you started with? Give him half of that He gon' give you 50 G's in a plastic sack And I'mma give you 3,500 cash for that Gotta keep your mouth closed or I'mma blast the mac They won't believe you, whole world know that bastard rap Once you outta the throne, you can't have it back Retirement home and ain't nuttin' after that Except you layin' in a casket black, suit on You can't go to heaven with Timberland boots on No subliminals, I ain't talkin to you Shawn I'm talkin' to that heartless mouse with no jewels on Who the fuck put you on Faggot ass nigga let men toss his salad like croutons I fuck with Fab, get my DJ Clue on, sit inside Hot 97 with no tools on And it don't matter if it's Sway or Kay Slay Angie Martinez I'll take 'em back to KDAY They act like they forgot about Dre Day I don't rap for Free that's why they fired AJ It's me leaking through your stereo Envy me as an MC, prepare for your burial I kill niggas without lettin' the Desert blow Razor tongue and I'm far from Haitian son All black like the Range Rover wheels Niggas whisper around The Game like The Game won't kill Let me show you the scars, take you back to the car Rewind time, March 3, 1994 I was only in my teens, deuce-deuce in my Levi's When Nas hit the scene I was still rockin' knee-highs Runnin' with my brother Fase, he was 17 Two guns in the upper waist, so we hit the block Saw niggas from a rival gang bumpin Dre Ran up on the '64 and that's all she wrote We runnin through the alley like Bishop chasin' Radames First murder and I did that without a mask Fast-forward, see Game gettin out a Jag Two piece suit on, he still got his rag Gangbangin' forever, he still got his swag Let me catch you in Los Angeles without a pass Everybody in New York know that you a fag Come out the closet, show the world how to use a pad Speakin' death on my red bandana Naw, he couldn't a said that, so I raised my antennas Look at my Nextel, got a call from Santana That nigga a pussy, we just saw him in Atlanta So I hopped on the first thing smokin' to Atlanta Pulled up at 112 ran up on that black Phantom Security hopped out, no Joe in here Just Outkast gettin' ready for a show in here So I uncocked the fofo Hopped in the cherry low-low Chrome grill with the G-Unit logo We watched Hov go, now the world waitin' on my solo I'm the man, Stat Quo know I ain't gotta explain, even Bo know Half of these rap niggas is faker than rolls gold Get hit in the face with the back of the fofo And pissed on tryna play The Game with a broke nose My bitch harder than you, yeah Vida loco I ain't sold one record got rap in a chokehold I'm Dre certified like the leader of the band Run up, you sure to die, I'll leave you where you stand Smurfette runnin' 'round New York like he the man But he peed in his pants when he saw us at Summer Jam Lucky I wasn't there, I had to bury my man Or I would've terrorized New York like the Son Of Sam What you mean terrorize New York? I mean expose these pussy ass niggas like I'm Too $hort Somebody tell Domination I'll leave him in parts Leg in Jersey, arm in Brooklyn, head buried in Central Park He can't walk through New York no more like John Stark Got a call 'cause I'ma break his ankles like Hot Sauce Ask niggas from your hood I'm thorough in five boroughs Sit on any stoop, Pelli Tims in the thermal Wait till Alpo come home Like Azie from Harlem, Dre gon' pay me regardless Cause he know Jay-Z departed And these other rap labels know don't feed they artists Talkin' blueprint shit you got three garages Gettin money off Roc like lil [?] and Carter Showin' off your lil chain like these is flawless Send him fifty cent a day, I can see he starvin' I got R&B bitches givin' me ménages Deep massages, I could hear Eazy talkin' Tellin' me to have a seat in Tomica's office Buy Ruthless and get Lil' E involved in Promote without that magazine in Boston Take a couple mill, make Beans a offer Give him money we don't see that often But it was all a dream, like I seen Memph Bleek in Marcy I ain't say you won't see Bleek in Marcy I said my man told me he don't see Bleek in Marcy I'm from Compton where niggas used to bleed for Barkleys Drive lo-lo's and we ain't need keys to start 'em Just a little information for your summer vacation Bring your chain 'cause every nigga in L.A. waitin' Mad cause Detroit beat the shit out the Lakers And they'll kill you 'cause they can't find Gary Payton Meanwhile the throne vacant and Da Band ain't makin' it Shyne got a new deal, Def Jam gotta pay us Playboy Jones got knocked out shortly after they weighed him in Niggas got beef with G-Unit but ain't sayin' shit Quiet as a church on Tuesdays Niggas say they hate my music, but my alert's on they 2-ways Nigga I'm a hazard, a Michael Jackson in khakis Touch kids but I do that with a semi-automatic With or without traffic I pull my shit out and blast it I'm blind to the masses like Stevie Wonder without glasses I'm a savage spit murder like a 38 Magnum 16 bars'll bag 'em, let the hook toe tag 'em Murder any MC throw 'em in that white wagon Let him die and come back look at 'em, he white flaggin' For spreadin' rumors like, "When I see Game I might jack him" I'm tellin' the world, he reach for my chain, I might clap him 'Cause niggas shot me in two-thousand and one Took one in the heart 'cause I was too proud to run The clip was empty when the police found my gun So I don't bring that gangbangin' shit around my son Nigga 50 took 9 he know how it feel And I found out Buck got shot up in Cashville And Sha Money told me Lloyd Banks got hit And Yayo just came home (G-G-G-Unit) Backstage at a D-12 concert A fan asked me how it feel to be walkin' in Snoop's Converse Niggas show me love when they see me in the streets But they frown when I don't wanna hear none of they beats Nigga, this shit crazy Em said some shit when was 16, now they tryna ruin Slim Shady I forgive him, I got problems of my own How you think the streets gon' act now that Suge home These niggas is birds, I can see the feathers on 'em If Doc give me the word, I put this Berretta on 'em When the beef is on, my piece is on 'em White sheets is on 'em, Doc breathin on 'em And I got a extra clip in my Reeboks 'cause I'm in and out my socks every time I see cops Game got the streets locked, call 911, get the whole fuckin' LAPD shot Niggas snitchin' to the street cops, get your nephews and your niece shot When my heat cocked, then the beef stop Nigga with a attitude like I heard Dr. Dre doin' Detox Niggas fightin' for the throne, that ain't shit Tryna measure the fallen legends but the shoe won't fit Niggas might think I'm ridin' dick Cause I'm at the cemetery puttin' creases in my G-Unit's Tryna talk Jesus Christ into lettin' me dig 'em up So they could stand side by side again and live it up This might be the last time you hear me biggin 'em up With suicidal thoughts bangin' Me And My Bitch in the truck My conscience tellin' me if I put the clip in the buck It might be loud enough to wake Big and 'em up What if that was P. Diddy sittin' in the truck And 2Pac was in jail the day he recorded Hit 'em Up? I wouldn't be outside 40/40 bumpin' Jigga What Wouldn't be signed to Dr. Dre, I wonder is it luck That got me on MTV with Banks, Fifth, and Buck I ain't tryna be L.A.'s king, he carry a pimp cup [Outro] Snoop Dogg got the crown, nigga The fuck y'all mad at me for? I ain't sold one fuckin' record I'm just tryna use this 200 bars to feed my family, nigga I ain't no threat I can't rap, I'm from Compton remember? You gotta be out yo motherfuckin' mind Ask Kay Slay, ask Clue, ask Whoo Kid, ask Funk Flex I'll murder anyone of you motherfuckers G-G-G-Unit Awwwww