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