Macon Hamilton - Incarcerated Scarfaces lyrics

Whattup to all my real n***as! Whattup to all my real b**hes! Smoking bones in the staircases gettin' lifted Whip lash make ya neck bob as you feel it I don't get along with bullsh** Oh no no, I am bout' business Thou shall not bear a false witness I rap til' I'm ripping, the same ol sentance a psalm The lord is my shephard I shall not want rhythm For the 5? what is it that you want? But dodge them people son, you know the pigs be oiking n***as Velma jinkies that's a yoinks I say ride out on em' prove a point I got points to prove baby, how you doing lady? I can do attitude that's how you'll make it Blessed to be so highly favored the vapors Biz Markie, beat you low key Nobody in hip hop is built like me Unless you talking BIG just bring it back to Bizzy though ^ I pullup in a Vic with a silly hoe She like why they call you sweet dick willy for? I'm weird n***a, when everything is really dope Word to my subconscious in the Mac Alot of these rappers got dough but they can't rap Alot of em' got deals though (dil*o's) but ain't strapped (cool) Intact what's under your wave cap Be glad I ain't mad or it's lay flat Say Mac how you so cool with it? Cause' I got head and Hennessy and learned from the lessons they taught in school different Soaked game and played activision I'm rude cause the rudest n***a always gets it Once I exit the cucumb, wake up from the womb Hear the ba** that go boom! I kick it Key to every city, I'm bout to give em' held (hell) like titties I eat good, I like hibachi Red light green light, can't nobody stop me Me stops nobody just up jumps ya body Boom n***a, more bars Hoes be leeching, arrencars Hardy har art, you're a joke in a jar Aim for ya abs, ar (Ar- Ab) Vibe if you want but no faking the funk Calm as a monk on a bag full of a skunk n***as you'se a** like a motherf**ing donk Master P does not have your CD in his trunk I am the hip that's inside of your hump Acne on Dos Equis, but it bumps Spazz with Pizzazz I'm the rapper you want Never be on my a** ask for Guidance we going Check the W.E.B. I'm Dubois (the boy) Anita bake (Baker) and you bring me joy Real n***a heezy my souls on a plane Money ain't a thing, Jay Z and Jermaine Where they at though, ooh their go the police at my front door Ooh they ask a n***a bout' a kick door Said "I don't know" but I did know But better hop up off my dick you know you getting no info Blow em' off like some indo Then get back to my cooking with no crisco Say Taye Teezy only time I f** with 10-4 And if you don't know, now you know n***a HAAM