Too Late
(专辑: The Cutting Room Floor 3 - 2013)
I
sip the
blood of Christ from a
gold cup I
love this life My soldiers smoke you, no price Dead men in graves roll over I'm part Apache, slave master, African, who asked me Fans tear my clothes, bitches try to trap me 30, 000 seats rise to their feet to hear me flow Got two mansions on the
East Coast Models deep throat I
heard about them kidnap dudes, had dinner with some Shake hands with killers just to see who really was one Study his moves, how he look fake but that's the
trick to it Now we turn you to bait The
street shit I
stick to it Rappers hate me, bitches saying, "how did he start?" They go to psychics asking 'em for my astrology chart I'm the
righteous thug, fight for Mumia Racist white judge made Diallo's murderers free See, they don't like us And what about conspiracies to kill black boys But y'all ain't hearing me, worship the
planet like asteroids Look around and everything you see was once an idea From somebody's thoughts who turned into reality clear Look at the
tallest sky scrapers, it just didn't appear Somebody thought it up and built it up and put it right there Aye yo rich niggas burn and roll up in Testarossa's Poor niggas plan to come up they cop the
toasters Dead niggas lay in they grave and roll over But it is too late, too late Aye-yo rich niggas burn and roll up in Testarossa's Poor niggas plan to come up they cop the
toasters Dead niggas lay in they grave and roll over But it is too late, too late Aye yo Aye yo Ayeyo