| You gots to keep on, the break of dawn shit
|
| Smoking cancer sticks, and you don’t quit
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| We’ll never never know retore bit
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| No «What's up X?» |
| The O.E. |
| alcohol
|
| I gets paid somes, I write albums
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| Sip the coke rums, loop the trope drums
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| Thirst it down, plums I think of stunts are dunce
|
| My rap labelmates? |
| They all smoke blunts!
|
| Went on a tour once, bus was local
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| From Albuquerque to like Acapulco
|
| It was Lord J, Sadat, Alamo
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| Busta and myself, in the back with the O.O.Z
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| Deep in Cali near the valley where we saw the rains
|
| Sess is the best till all it settles in the brain
|
| And if you ever did, God forbid you did
|
| Get on that bus and do a red eye to Alex Kidd
|
| Word biz, had the whole crew relazing
|
| Boogie Brown with the box, booming new tracks and
|
| Quest wants a stogie, he told some to ask Dinco
|
| He had one more, to best 'em down, now
|
| A keep ??? |
| a push by the backside
|
| Sneaks hit the blacktop, damn I hate that flat top
|
| Just then the bus driver had the nerve to
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| To say «Stop the smoke» he curving and swerving
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| He popped junk like the sea sick sales of fuss
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| Not like we got top post like on that De La bus
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| This was a Greyhound, the bunks were open
|
| So fuck it, let the motherfucker overdose
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| We puffed his luck, he wasn’t bullshittin
|
| The next L was litten and hitten, so now he quittin'
|
| We couldn’t stand to stay in San Jose
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| Plus we had a show in L.A. that same day
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| He said he’d take us down but he had to shake us down
|
| For 5 yards, between the guards that’s might trife
|
| Mad heads make mad forwns no might like
|
| Let’s ask Busta, wanna rim his white wife?
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| Planning to hitchhike, a six-oh, one switch
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| Forces in our midst, on the bust, the boy is one bitch
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| Niggas got edgy like a knife
|
| Dedicating niggas delight to my man and his wife
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| You might think that’s a bitch, because here’s the shit
|
| But only one week in Gotham a show at the Ritz
|
| And you don’t quit, 'til the last Philly is lit
|
| You get a buzzed bus driver with a contact blit
|
| And you don’t quit, 'til the last Philly is lit
|
| You get a buzzed bus driver from the contact blit |