intilectual recipricol
Killin fake hip hop
like I said, eeeeasy...heres one of my faves, lets see if u can get that 3 stacks verse posted without nuttin in your pants
Yo, hoes in my fold can slow me, roll with the brokest homies
Cold and we hopeless lonelies, scolding my foes who phony
From blocks where coke can feed you and cops are over evil
They know some people who tell on felons who sold some diesel
Heron and blow it ruins minds, knew a crew one time
'89, they took work to Caroline and blew big time
In just two years, their crew disappear
Snitches and bytches, smeared the paint on their pictures
Years back, I reminiscence and remember, sitting on wood benches
Gave me splinters, just a baby nikka thankful
When them killers came through, guns out, moving
I thank the ones who said shorty go home, we about to be shooting
I came into this world high as a bird
From second hand cocain powder
i know it sounds absurd
I never tooted but its in my veins
While the rest of the country bungies off bridges
Without no snap back
and bytches they say they need that
To shake they fannies in the ass clubs
they go the other route
turn each other out
burn each other out
where a bonified nikka like me
can't even get no back rub these days
ain't that bleak on they part
but let me hold it down
cause they shut you down
when you speak from your heart
now that's hard while we rantin and ravin bout gats
nikka they made them gats
they got some shyt that'll blow out our backs
from where they stay at
THREE fukkIN THOUSAND
Lu and T comin up in mere minutes
