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2nd Coming (Tuck Ya Ice)
Hip Hop Weekly, C.O.B Circle of Bosses, Crooked I, thanks for fucking with me You know what it is, hip hop is my mother Gangsta rap is my father, C.O.B. is my religion I
am the
president of ghetto America, yes I
am the
poster boy for section 8
I
am the
leader of the I
came from nothing campaign Let's start off slow When your album dropping? That's what they all say Check the
pulse on the
streets, they saying it everyday Niggas getting mad, say I'm losing fans As if going through bullshit was part of my plans They know I'm street money, they say the
nigga's paid They see the
diamonds in the
chain, they think I
got it made You one of the
hottest with the
flow as far as artists go My penitentiary niggas say I
got the
hardest flow I
got a
heart of gold, but now my heart is cold Because these mean streets'll eat right through your heart and soul What do you know about sleeping in an abandoned house? (nothing) What do you know about beefing with them hammers out? (nothing) Here's whats the
man's about I
shot the
belly of the
beast with hollow tips Until he spit me out of his savage mouth From watching my mouth move to death they know I
sound tight My words paint pictures, that's how my blind listeners found sight When this reciter's around mics This profound writer mystifies cyphers Just like lightning striking the
ground twice I'm on some other shit like attacking Henny for the
fuck of it Stacking pennies up to buy my mother whips Greatest rapper alive, words from my mother's lips You don't believe her then her son'll tell you suck a
dick There go that dropout nigga, he in a
Bentley coupe There go that welfare kid in that Armani suit The
first time they rode on me, yeah I
was afraid to shoot The
second time I
let my pistol whistle like a
flute Out west they wondering who's the
hottest rapper, right Here's some ammunition for niggas who defending my side With skills I'm overdosing even with no promotion I
stand on my own two, Bobbito locomotion You niggas over boasting, I
see you just like view over ocean Nigga my flow is frozen You can ice skate on my 16s, nigga wait Subtract half of that, it don't matter, it's still a
figure 8
Yeah, I'm done with you niggas You know the
figure 8
joint they do on the
motherfucking... Fuck it As a
baby I
sent lyrical signals through the
umbilical Ghostwrote my mother's poetry, even she knew that I'd grow to be A
dope MC, with lyrics in the
womb Meaning your doom, engineered in a
cocoon with my fearlessness in bloom When I
spit even the
dead hear it in a
tomb So when I'm spilling lyrics, I'm feeling spirits in the
room What up Pac? What up B.I.G.? What up my nigga Pun? Eazy E, what up loc? Big L, what up son? Yeah, I
met Freaky Tah, yo what up dunn? Left Eye was my homegirl, what up hun? Everyone of 'em will tell you Crooked goes hard Stay tuned, coming soon my rap report card Double up on 'em C.O.B. or nothing Yeah Hip Hop motherfucking Weekly, the
double up I
see people like Oprah and Al Sharpton Look like you all setting booby traps for rap I'm so gangsta, ha ha Yeah, hip hop won't die Gangsta rap is breathing, ya heard me, yeah This that motherfucking slow flow like it or not I'll put my stage on the
corner, put my mic on the
block If it's for this rap shit, give my life on the
spot If it's for the
revolution man I'll sniper a
cop Mafia, got a
Gotti agenda Do you think I
give a
fuck about Oprah or her audience members? Hip hop is in my blood, nigga you probably remember They attacked us before, didn't nobody surrender Art imitates life haters, this is the
deal Dying of thirst in the
desert, I
wouldn't piss in your grill Ain't a
rap song on Earth that makes a
listener kill I'm just here to tell you how us ghetto prisoners feel Ain't it funny how society's trying to bang on us When there's schools that's named after some fucking slave owners They historical heroes had the
noose to hang on us Now they mad at what I'm playing while my Chevy swing corners What about violent movies? Say I'm disrespecting women when rock n' roll invented the
groupie Better save that shit for Gucci When I
was in Milan I
saw one of the
models damn-near showing her coochie Don't put prostitutes in my lyrical flows But there was hookers in the
bible, there was biblical hoes My recital strictly based on what a
criminal knows Take a
walk through my hood, watch you shit in your clothes Try to blame us young niggas for this cocaine FBI, CIA those are your planes Junkies fucking with the
shit to heal their own pain You fund wars but me I'm just buying gold chains And how am I a
misogynist, nigga if I
call a
bitch a
bitch Believe that the
bitch is a
bitch Yeah, some niggas killed my homie, I'm trying to find the
suckers All started with this bitch, he was trying to fuck her, he was dying to fuck her Then he died when them niggas came inside with them nines going blucka blucka They killed him for his money, just wanted to sex her Stupid bitch set him up and I'm supposed to respect her Fuck it, call a
bitch a
bitch when I
spit on the
record If it's spotted with a
long tail it must be a
leopard Don Imus called some women some hoes That he didn't even know so they snatched his show But if I
call a
woman a
ho, best believe a
nigga know She selling pussy in exchange for that dough Now let's talk about Virginia Tech And the
media's blatant disrespect for the
family of the
victims for a
bigger check Ban gangsta rap from MTV but you're showing Choon Seung-Hui on NBC Whoever ran the
footage we should body that nigga Cause he probably gave birth to some copycat killers Probably just spawned some young cocky cap peelers Blood is on your hands when them body bags fill up And you trying to shift the
blame to hip hop I
say hip hop hooray just like back in the
day When they censor Public Enemy and N.W.A Tipper Gore wanted to censor every record we play I'm a
motherfucking gangsta on your radio channel Hypocrites want to ban me but they love the
Sopranos Better pull that Constitution out, read 'em and weep Let's look at the
first ammendment man, it say freedom of speech Next week
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