[Intro]
[Verse 1]
What happened in hip hop that got Pac and Big shot
The thicks blocks, now every rapper claim he let his clip pop
But even myself tote a gun, and know to run than get shot
I've been there before now I'm f**ing with Doc
(Dr. Dre: Gotta do the Calvin Broadus numbers)
If not I pitch rocks, anticipatin' my incarceration
Media think I'm fakin' like Mason
But when it comes to mace, f** R. Kelly I don't take it in the face
I find out who sprayed it, and I'm putting you under the pavement
No Buddhist priest, Catholic, or Baptist pastor can save him
I'm far from religious, but I got beliefs
So I put canary yellow diamonds in my Jesus piece
I came back from the dead without a part of my chest
Laid in a hospital bed on cardiac arrest
I waited for 3 years while everybody else dropped
Now I understand why Nas did a song with his pops
[Hook x2]
I'm Ready To Die without a Reasonable Doubt
Smoke Chronic and hit it Doggystyle before I go out
Until they sign my d**h Certificate, All Eyez On Me
I'm still at it, Illmatic, and that's The Documentary
[Verse 2]
If I die my n***as
f** it, I did a song with Mary Blige, my n***as
Got a hook from Faith, no verse from Jay
I guess on Westside Story he thought I spit in his face
Told Ed Lover & Moni Love I was talking to Ja
With that Maybach line, it was payback time
Keep f**ing with me n***a, I'll put you under me
Take your car and trade it in for eight 3 hundred C's
If you cross my T, I'll dot your eyes
You'll do life in a cemetery, I'll do mine with Shyne
Come home sit in the throne with my legs crossed
And my Air Forces, middle finger up, f** the world
Cause I'm feeling like Puff when Life After d**h hit
Mo' money, mo' problems and I lost my best friend
I'm the second dopest n***a from Compton you'll ever hear
The first n***a only put out albums every 7 years
[Interlude: Radio Interview]
(You know what speaking of Jay
That just makes me roll down
Now your song Westside Story)
Uh Oh
(You got a line that says
"I don't do bu*ton up shirts
Or drive Maybachs"
Is that a shot at Jay?)
Nah, I was talking about Ja Rule
Yeah, so, yeah, I got a lot of respect for Jay
You know what I'm saying
I never take shots at legends
I just, that's just something I don't do
[Verse 3]
Let me tell you why I do this sh**
I'm a son of a gun cause moms was a Hoover Crip
First day I got signed I had to prove I spit
Freestyle with Busta Rhymes (Busta: son, duke is sick)
The protege of Doc Dre, I could finally put the shoes on
Now that the rumors of Rakim and Cube gone
They say truth hurts, sunk like quick sand
Don't stop me in traffic and ask about Hittman
I gotta restore the feeling that crawled from under the rock
After Tha Dogg Pound crushed the buildings
I got a family to feed, I'm the middle of 9 children
We can talk about a loan after I sell 5 million
If I tell you I ain't Game and I don't know Dre
You goin' do me like Xzibit and cut half of my face?
I take all the credit for putting the west back on the map
If you ain't feeling that, guess I'm Guerrilla Black
[Hook]