Gone

But it's too late, it's too late He gone You sweat her, and I ain't talkin' 'bout a Coogi You a big L, and I ain't talkin 'bout Cool J See me at the airport, at least 20 Louis Treat me like the Prince and this my sweet brother Numpsay Brother Numpsay! Groupies sound too choosy Take 'em to the show and talk all through the movies Says she want diamonds, I took her to Ruby Tuesdays If we up in Friday's, I still have it my way Too late, we gone, we strivin' home Gone, we ride on chrome It's too late Y'all don't want no prob from me What you rappers could get is a job from me Maybe you could be my intern, and in turn I'll show you how I cook up summer, in the winter Aaron love the raw dog, when will he learn Caught somethin' on the Usher tour he had to "Let it Burn" Plus he already got three chil'run Arguin' over babysitters like, "Bitch, it's yo' turn!" Damn 'Ye, it'd be stupid to ditch you Even your superficial raps is super official Are-are-are-Roc pastel with Gucci on With TV's in the ride, throw a movie on Said he couldn't rap now he at the top with doobie long Cause the dookie's on any song that they threw me on, gone We strivin home, gone I ride on chrome We strivin' home, gone Killa, I ride on chrome Knock knock, who's there Killa Cam, Killa who Killa Cam, hustler, grinder, gorilla true Oh my chinchilla blue, blue you ever dealt with a dealer Well here's the deal ma we goin' to the dealer No concealin', no ceiling I don't need a roof Act up, get out, I don't need you poof Poof, be gone, damn tough luck dag Dag, niggas still doin' puff puff pass Pull the truck up fast and I tell 'em Hey, back in a touched up Jag, shit Y'all niggas want Killa Cam, cerebellum An old man just goin' tell 'em (Too late, he, gone) Then I see how y'all gonna react when I'm (Gone) My last girl want me back then I'm on Fine stay, you got the grind hey Came back, read what the sign say (Too late, he, gone) Yes I know you want to see my demise Yeah you church boy actin' like a thief in disguise Ain't leavin' my side, see the greed in my eyes Ask Abby y'all hustle for a week to the Chi, shit And that ain't leavin' alive, please believe me Gave Weezy a piece of the pie, and You can ask George or Regina The whole Westside I explore with the Beemer now We strivin' home, I ride on chrome Listen homeboy move on That's your best bet, why's that Cause I been pourin' out some liquor for the fact that my pal's gone And tryin' to help his momma with the fact that her child gone And since we used to bubble like a tub full of Calgon Guess it's only right that I should help her from now on But since they got a foul on, what coulda' gone wrong Now they askin' Cons, how long has this gone on And maybe all this money mighta' gone to my head Cause they got me thinkin' money mighta' gone to the feds So I ain't goin' to the dread, but he'll go on up to bed And when I came the next mornin' he was gone with my bread And with that bein' said, I had gone on my instincts And gone to the spots where they go to get mixed drinks But lookin' back now shoulda' gone to the crib And rented "Gone With the Wind," cause I'da gone about 10 But I had gone with my friend, and we had gone to the bar And heard a nigga talkin shit so I had gone to the car And now the judge is tellin' me that I had gone too far And now we gone for 20 years, doin' time behind bars And since I gone to a cell for some petty crimes I guess I gone to the well one too many times, cause I'm gone I'm Ahead of my time, sometimes years out So the powers that be won't let me get my ideas out And that make me want to get my advance out And move to Oklahoma and just live at my Aunt's house Yeah, I romance the thought of leavin' it all behind Kanye step away from the limelight, like, when I was on the grind In the "One, Nine, Nine, Nine" Before, model chicks was bendin' over or Dealerships asked me Benz or Rover, man If I could just get one beat on Hova We could get up off this cheap-ass sofa What the summer of the Chi got to offer an 18 year old Sell drugs or get a job, you gotta play gyro My dog worked at Taco Bell, hooked us up plural-fied A week later the manager count the churros Sometimes I can't believe it when I look up in the mirror How we out in Europe, spendin' Euros They claim you never know what you got 'til it's gone I know I got it, I don't know what y'all on I'ma open up a store for aspiring MC's Won't sell 'em no dream, but the inspiration is free But if they ever flip sides like Anakin You'll sell everything includin' the mannequin They got a new bitch now you Jennifer Aniston Hold on I'll handle it, don't start panickin', stay calm Shorty's at the door cause they need more Inspiration for they life, they souls, and they songs They said sorry Mr. West is gone