调：F minor•
Intro 1
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Verse 1
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a friend of mine told me to write me a tight ass rhyme
And so
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Fm
The rhyme was tight, and it went this way
And I own my briefcase with
some crumbled weed
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I put one on my briefcase so
that's it, just like the book
smoke a fat blunt on my couch
For your screw, hundred dollar bill,
I ain't no 12 -inch,
you can't mix me up in this bullshit
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I got full clips, and alone I do my shit
So trust me, your information's faulty
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An d I wouldn't eat you,
cause your meat's too salty
with some gasoline draws
cause you the type of nigga that'll tell him everything you saw
With my
Big
Bad 40
Auto
Mag
Knack, motivated, totally undominated
my mama made it, easy for me I didn't have to work
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14 years old in the back drinkin'
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O .E. like her, now wait just the other day
A friend of mine,
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told me to write me a tight ass rhyme, so
I, I wrote this rhyme that I'm
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about to say, the rhyme was tight and it went this way,
I know it's been a long time, I
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shouldn't have left you, without a tight rhyme to step to,
think of all them weak ass albums
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you slept through, well I'm your medicine,
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Fm
sorry I kept you, went to my brother's house,
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without a doubt, twisted one up with a nigga,
smoked him out, got to writing some of that
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high enough to write a whole career full of shit
cheese ass nigga know what,
Talk him about lynch this talking that banana
don't even let it knock you just do this
You know what saying?
Represent it.
Sick money.
For life, you know?
Got the swos, niggas.
We gon' do this.
For now.
We ain't gon' even trip off
of these niggas.
Hook up.
Saying they got the hook up,
but don't got it.
For now.
It's all to the
Just gave birth to a...
Just gave...
Just gave birth to a hop stick
just gave birth to a hop stick
I bet a better judge to shine
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