Gossip

I hate gossip… and I don’t walk around

looking for it ya know

But yesterday it seemed to just wonder

around until it found me

You know like gossip found me

And why don’t you try it

Huh, you don’t know,

Well what you just do is...

Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop

Stop, hating on a nigga

Dat is a weak emotion, da lady of a nigga

And you can tipped like ya waitin on a nigga

Putta body bag and a apron on a nigga…

I give my all behind da mic

But you could never see if you sit behind da light

And you don’t have to pick me to win da title fight

But I’mma wear dat champion belt sooo tight

And if I’m wrong there is no right

And if I’m wrong there is snow white

I’m tryna be po-lite but you bitches in my hair

Like da fucking po-lice And my flow is rare

These other rappers nice, these other rappers bark,

some of ‘em even bite

But I’m much more bright I give the game sight

But before you dim the lights you just might, might, wanna

Think it over, think it over (Oooooo)

Think it over, think it over (Baby, baby)

Stop... analyzin' critacizin',

You should realize what I am and start epitomizin'

Legitimate, I got the heart of the biggest lion

I’m confident like fuck em all pull out my dick and ride it

My flow sick, so sick, it's like my shit is dyin'

It rains a lot in my city, cause my city’s cryin'

because my city’s dyin'

Still I emerge from all of that I am a living pion-eer, near Zion

Fear God, not them

Steer my Robin Coupe through the streets of the boot... and

Soo-woo

And, then I leave blood in the booth, I leave a blood bath,

Sorry there's a tub in the booth, now where the drugs at?

I’m twisted like the string on a shoe

No nigga fuck dat

I'm twisted like the string on a boot, now where New Orleans at?

I feel hip hop stole me like a bus pass

so in your possession, I, I, I must ask…

Hey, haven't I been good to you? (Think it over)

Tell me; haven't I been sweet to you

Drag my name through the mud I come out clean

Cast away stones

I won't even blink

A gun is not a math problem,

I won't even think

Just leave you dead like the mink under my sink

Don't believe in me

Don't believe me

I graduated from hungry,

And made it to greedy

My flow is like pasta

Take it and eat it

But I'm gone need cheese if I'm bakin' lasini

You niggas want beef?

I want a steak and uh, we be

Lost in Amsterdam or Jamaica where we be

Hard body nigga, just taken it easy

All about my paper, bout my paper like Easy

Why do rappers Why to rappers, lie to fans

Lie to rappers, a lot rappers lie like actors cut the mothafuckin camera

Cut the checks nigga fuck your props

And make it out to Mr. Hip-Hop

i ain't dead i'm alive