Gangsta rappers can't fight, so they rap about guns.
Dutch in my ear, Olde E in my palm, I Freddy Krueger your face, Michael Myers your moms. You botherin mine? That's when I'm sparkin the nine.
I'm making good money but I ain't rich. Even if I don't wanna rap I still gotta work. Pride don't feed the babies. I'm going to do whatever it takes. As long as my fingers and toes move Im'ma get money.
I don't like thugs, I don't like nerds, I don't like myself and I hate bein' disturbed.
Wake up: all of that 'crack in the street' talk? It's made up, like 'Jack and the Beanstalk.'
Niggas' rap albums sound like love letters, Pen in my hand, like: damn, fam, I could do much better.
I'm a rapper but I don't f**k with that hip-hop s**t. You understand? I'm home, I take care of my family. I f**k with other kinds of n****s, I don't f**k with no hip-hop dudes, man. That rap s**t is fake... these rap dudes is fake.
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