Point The Finga

You could get the finger

Come and get some!!

The middle.

Aaaww yeah!

They love to point the finger.

[00:15.00]Boom!Boom!Boom! on your black ass, *****.

I thought I hit rock bottom,

Then my album point the finger.

I guess nobody loves a real *****-slash-rap singer.

I thought I'd bring a little truth to the young troops.

I brought proof that the *****s need guns too.

It's not to be a racist, but let's face this.

Wouldn't you if we could trace places.

I got lynch spots from the cops.

And till this day, the same motha ****a on the beats gettin major pay.

But whenI get my techa-techa techs out.

So, we prayin for these pigs to knock the blacks out.

Ain't that a *****.

Some officers'll get rich.

Whoopin on thugs and robbin drug dealers for their ****.

As far as jealousy, being a celebrity,

No matter who committed the crime, they all yell at me.

And the media is greedier than most.

You could sell em your soul and they'll be on ya till a *****'s a ghost.

And everyday I read the paper, there's another lie.

They show my picture for the crimes of another guy.

Now how's that for the life of a big shot.

A dead cop, a law suit, a little kid shot.

I play them funky ass marks in the park

By tryin to earn their stripes in the dark.

Just cuz I come here, don't mean I from here.

Peep.

Only jealous motha ****a beef.

Point the finger.

As I run up on a mad man, a nut case with a screw loose.

A zoot troupe full of foolies with toolies.

*****s run to me.

Don't come to me with beef.

Take your jewels and your jeep.

Boom! Boom!, let that ass sleep.

It's gettin hectic.

*****s run quick.

Buckshots are the payback for dumb ****.

All you *****s on the block tryin to test me,

Best wear a vest so I could open like I'm sesame.

I'll run up on your man deep.

While your tryin to sleep, I'm steady pumpin bullets in your sheets.

Wake up.

Motha ****a, don't stutter.

Point blank by a ***** from the gutter.

Yeah.

Give me mine, give me mine, give me mine.

Made my rhyms, now I'm back here bustin 9's.

And brothas can't get none. Hell no.

A quick fury and he's bury with a swell jaw.

I came in from the amateaurs to pro hits.

And 5-0, so you know I take no ****.

And everybody wants to kill a bringer.

I'm bad news so they choose,

To point the finger.

1,2,3.

[02:54.00][03:04.00][03:24.00]Peace to the real Gs.

Stay mean till these motha ****as kill me.

I bring skills and I been killin wills.

Smokin sess till I'm ill.

Still feel me?

I say 1,2,3.

[03:06.00][03:25.00]Still mean till these motha ****as kill me.

Pick it up, pick it up, give it up.

Best to duck or get ****ed for bucks.

Scream 1,2,3.

I can't give up.

It's a rap thang.

And I ain't goin back to the crack game.

[03:18.00]You can do it son.

[03:19.00]Be a man and stand up or run.

*******, let em point the finger.

Snitches, let em point the finger.

Yo, 1,2,3.

I guess nobody loves a rap singer.

That's why these motha ****as point the finger.