Its all bad now man, its all bad
it's all fucked up now
Yeah ha ha, new shit, hey yo
I just want the whole world to know:
That I did not start this, but I will finish it
Comin up it never mattered was color you was
If you could spit then you could spit, thats it, thats what it was
Back when, motherfuckers was straight back packin
Cypherin, fightin for life in this rap
for the mic to get past and you psyched and you gasped
and you hyped cuz you last and you might whoop some ass
If you lost then you lost shake hands like a man
and you swallowed it, when the unsigned hype column
at The Source was like, the only source of light
When the mics used to mean somethin, a four was like
you were the shit, now its like the least you get
three and a half now just means you a peice of shit
four and a half or five, means you Biggie, Jigga, Nas,
or Benzino shit I don't eben think you realize
you playin with motherfuckers lives, I done watched Dre
get fucked on The Chronic, probably cuz I was on it
Now you fucked me outta my mics twice I let it slide
I said I wouldnt hold my fuckin breath to get a five
Shit I was right, I'da fuckin died already tryin
I swear to God I never lie I bet thats why
you let that bitch give me that bullshit review
I sat and took it, I ain't look at the shit we knew
You'd probly try to fuck us with Obie and 50 too
{(::haach-poo::)}
Fuck a relationship we through
No more Source with street credit, them days is dead
Dre's got A-Ks to dave mase his head
Every issue there's an eight page Made Men spread
Will somebody please tell whoever braids his head
That I am not afraid, hes just a fuckin waste of lead
on my pencil, for me to write some shit this simple
So listen closely, as I break it down and proceed
This old Gs bout to get smoked like rolled weed
You don't know me or my motherfuckin mother you motherfuckin punk
Put me on your fuckin cover just sell your little sell out mag
I ain't mad I feel bad, heres an ad, heres a poster of Ray-Ray and his dad
You wanna talk about some shit that you dont know about? ya
Lets talk about how your puttin you own son out there
And to try to eat off him, cuz you missed your boat
Your never gonna float bitch you're just too old
No wonder you're sore now, lordy ya board now
I'm pushin thirty you kickin fourty's door down
Bitch this is war now, and you'll never beat me
all you do is cheat me out of quotables but you know
that you'll always see me on your TV
Cuz you gotta stay up till three in the mornin
To see your video played once on BET
So he-he-he who has the last laugh?
Aftermath ya so on behalf on our whole staff
kiss our ass-hole cracks we'll never fold or hold back
Just know that Benzinos wack
no matter how many times I say he's stan, hell never blow jack
Your better off tryin to bring R-S-O back
Look at your track record thats how far it goes back
Its extortion and Ray owns a prportion
so half of the staff up there is fresh outta jail from boston
Bullyin and bossin, caged like a slave they've completely brainwashed him
And forced him to stay locked in his own office afraid of the softest
fakest, wannabe gangster in New York
And its pitiful, cuz I never woulda said shit to you if you'd kept your mouth shut
Bitch now what? hit it clue, spit it slay
New shit, exclusive yo lantern, yo whoo kid
You know what to do with this: use it
I'm through, this is stupid, I cant believe I stooped to this
bullshit to do this...
And who you callin a bitch? Bitch. You owe me.