| You busted
|
| You busted
|
| Shame on you
|
| (?) RAW!
|
| (I had seen you… what you was doin'… you nasty BITCH!)
|
| Boo I know what you did last summer
|
| Hooked up that fool in his dark grey Hummer
|
| Y’all was on a Sunset Strip you was just so quick
|
| Didn’t think nobody knew but I knew it yep
|
| You’d be on the under with your dirt extra work with your secret
|
| See secretly aligned with the underground’s elitest
|
| So I held a little survey asked about her foreplay
|
| Five out of six homies knew about the whoring
|
| We all touring these freaks keep on orbiting
|
| Absorbing performing artists in the darkness
|
| Alluring and polished play innocent and honest (no)
|
| But the (novest?) professional erotic (band-aids?)
|
| My band played many a hot night
|
| The type where the drawls just fall off the top right
|
| Fools go new crews roll
|
| Whose next get sex but whose crew told
|
| BUSTED…
|
| Talkin' about here… I was talkin' to her too…
|
| Talkin' about she was…
|
| She got on the Hiero bus last time they was out here…
|
| Now if I ever had a reason to continue with the smoke
|
| The stress relief you best believe of when the topic roll
|
| I rock and roll across the plains a tumbling tumbleweed
|
| With dirt up in my veins I heard my name
|
| And now the game it’s in effect I move my piece
|
| This bitch here is mine
|
| A rare pure design designated for my sign
|
| Resignating in your mind
|
| But when they moving from behind they take my shine
|
| But I strike back like empires with highed standards
|
| To root to loot to mate but it’s a sin
|
| To fuck around with ten different dicks in the same family of men
|
| Here come the comedy again don’t you know?
|
| Mouse be talking bout you when you gone
|
| Claim your personality just a pawn before the dawn has risen
|
| Women come to talk and get the aharrrrrg
|
| Chokin' on your spit actually chokin' on my spit
|
| I release on an amplified device
|
| Now that I’ve been layed-off I’m on the prowl so watch your ass (*whispered*)
|
| Man, same old story…
|
| She over there talkin' about she cool with Rhymesayers and Def Jux…
|
| She tryin to tell me her cousin is talkin' to Aceyalone…
|
| Where y’all folks been gone when the snowblower’s been
|
| Lost in the wind having customers for friends
|
| Spend a lotta time selling
|
| While them other niggas dwellin on their rap careers never hittin'
|
| He didn’t want that he rather be selling the dope sack
|
| He’d never had no time to come out to write a rap
|
| As long as them fiends kept spendin' 50's 100's
|
| More cash give him more ass
|
| A little dough maybe and you’ll drop the price baby
|
| Yes maybe not cause your boy was getting hot
|
| They said the police watch him
|
| Now the street’s talking about
|
| The majority of his fans got Aesop Rock in the walkman
|
| Living a thug’s life
|
| With too much love for the white girls
|
| Control over his world in the night
|
| Trying to find the best price
|
| At the expense of the music and they moving in the rap rights
|
| Rap tight within the money
|
| And temptations fight for his soul in a night flight…
|
| And you know that ain’t right… yep
|
| Didn’t know what the fuck he was doing (?)…
|
| Not makin no new songs…
|
| Life’s hard tryin to pay rent…
|
| CD’s wasn’t sellin next thing you know you’re on the streets…
|
| Friends, you know, somebody’s got the price
|
| Next thing you know you tight, you in, you can’t get out… |