Proof - Biboa's Theme lyrics

[Proof] La-la la-la la-la la-la, pretend to sharrrrrre.. Da, da-da, ain't nothin, by D-Twellllllve.. Weed no seeds, last year Cannabis Cup A druggie that mind hasn't been damaged enough With danglin nuts I lust for angels to f** My cannon is tucked, move fast I panic and bust Brain burnt out like a mechanical clutch I'm too schizophrenic to touch A scandalous bunch don't gamble with trust Scammin for bucks, pink candy deluxe out mishandlin s*uts After a show bring all my fans on the bus Next city, leave 'em dizzy, stranded and stuck Hangin in clubs like blacks in slavery Gats we aim and squeeze at acts of bravery Maybe speakers {?} bouncin off of Shady Lee {?} Can barely add, but still got A.D.D. (what I say?) Work the do', make 'em play for keeps I ain't gotta say sh** 'til the A.K. shall speak [Chorus: Proof] To whom it may concern, this planet is f**ed Life had been hard so far, I just manage to bluff Scandal and d** got my hands in some cuffs Man it's been rough, but sh** I don't plan to give up, uhh [Proof] Speakin at AA meetings while intoxicated Trainin a arm-less fighter to box in Vegas Plot with haters, they k** me on my block for later Havin free phone s** with operators Next Grammy's your man P is rockin Gators Leavin full with rabbit ears, I'm a pocket raider Every block invaders, all cops is traitors Any hood thief hands get burnt like hot potatoes The hardest mayor that boycott garbage sayers Thinkin outside the box like Harvard Squares Wild like Ben Wallace hair Hate the n***az that ain't spitters blow up off market favors (you!) So from now on I'm startin terror Aiyyo God, here I come, tell 2Pac to wait up [Chorus] [Proof] Got young famous that handle any further glory Fix my son a lunch for school so he'll murder for me Readin 'Pac and Pun tags up in pergatory Waitin to get in heaven or "Grimey," that's word to Nore Anything you heard before me Hah, it's simple like a street life suburban story Turn my poor peeps into murkers for beef Who the f** is Jerry? I'm searchin for weed And why did God make all these worthless MC's? Still tryin to find out for what purpose they breathe My pops hit the weed and then he birthed a new breed I hit bad b**hes raw cause it's worth the disease Hate the Ku Klux Klan, they abuse curtains and sheets And I need 'em at home, but that's a personal peeve The (Pills) is still (Purple) indeed And I'm screamin loud as hell "f** the Earth" when I leave [Chorus]