Hoping my thug motherf**ers know
This be the realest sh** I never wrote
Up in my studio, getting blowed
To the illest sh** I ever spoke
[x2]
They say I’m the 2Pac of Texas
And you ain’t gotta like it, but I bet you gon’ respect it
I really be one deep, it ain’t just hanging off my necklace
I need to take a sh**, but my schedule be so hectic
Them people, trying to send me up the road again
They don’t wanna see me, drive my Bentley up the road again
Racist motherf**ers, when I go to court they show me then
They know I’m innocent, but they don’t give a f** Z-Ro won’t win
And then they wonder why, my attitude the way it is
I’m rich but they still think I’ma rob em, that’s just the way it is
Leave church on a Sunday, they don’t give a f** what day it is
In front of me and behind me, I can tell what type of day this is
It’s a shame, I gotta walk around with bond money
I ain’t got a receipt, though the crooked cop gon’ take some from me
He say he smell that loud, I told him find it and let me know
I smelled it too but he couldn’t find it, and had to let me go
Hoping my thug motherf**ers know
This be the realest sh** I never wrote
Up in my studio, getting blowed
To the illest sh** I ever spoke
[x2]
21 gun salute, dressed in black gators and an Italian cut suit
When the cameras start flashing, I’ll disappear into the crowd like poof
These lil’ rappers round town, think they live like me
Hope they survive, and they get to see 39 like me
Even gotta hustle in your sleep, to be on your grind like me
Turn into sunlight dipped in chrome, that’s how you shine like me
They living fantasies n***a, but this the real world here
Where all the grown women at, ain’t nothing but lil’ girls here
These realty shows got all these hoes, acting like thots
And Facebook is the brand new power, that’s why relationships flop
And instead of breaking up or fight, we record it and holla Worldstar
Coulda saved a life, instead another d**h on Worldstar
If Martin Luther King came back, I wonder what he would say
Cops k** us we riot, when we k** each other it’s okay
We need to get our priorities in line
Or be a grandparent, ‘fore you realize we was running out of time the whole time
Hoping my thug motherf**ers know
This be the realest sh** I never wrote
Up in my studio, getting blowed
To the illest sh** I ever spoke
[x2]