i dont sell yay get my kicked in by the kkk said the police lookin for the piece inside my caprice
from the tracks of the i try to ya caught my on a CD or rap i it then take it to the mom and store for a cash flo' the mom and papa store
dont want no more rappers on find another back another climate people don't even who you is you need a in the music biz
album, for one, has no promotion your elbows and kneecaps have no your ashy, your music is outkast, they class me out the door is where they me (WHERE?) Straight into the (WHERE YOU GOIN?) now im on my way to meet (SAY WHAT?) to make a mil without a record deal selling tapes off the of my Coupe de ville (Bucka!)
Hustlin on the street is in a fight with the white guard talkin bout 'no solicitin, no I try to talk to him but he not listenin Punk ass, ass, cant slam dunk ass skunk ass, ass, sufferin suckatash! Now i'm seein a black guard workin for a tellin me i cant be in the that i be in you can spend money here you cant make no money you better get outta here ya here did i myself clear? i go and a beer til im in my belly big as elliot (EEEEEE!)
I'm so plus overstressed wanna rap so im obsessed sometimes i wanna my heat make them punks play my song on the (BUCKA!!!!)
let me out, let me out let me show the whole world im all about let me out, let me out let me rap til the people scream n shout let me out, let me out let me show the whole the best of me let me out, let me out let me take of my destiny
depressed, smokin, black, monster, sellin, money, for a murder, black like flack get up, get my tapes pressed up 'cause the industry is messed up, baby! i throw a pity party as i sip sell on! rap tapes, i dont need ima givin, colt 45 sippin its the year 2000 and my gerri curl still it might strange in my rhyme but im from the west i cant change with the of time what i am is i am if you dont like what i am i dont give a black pecker's my title, john king is my im havin thoughts suicidal, young rival i dont about fashion, just cadillac mashin bags to put my grass in, bank to put my in i dont wear FUBU like you do 'cause FUBU is i my gat and make you shit boo boo sit you talk too shit, thats why you got hit walkin home with your split i sit, sell yay, eryday (BUCKA!) N.W.A. (BUCK-BUCKA-BUCKA!) cruisin down the street in my 6 niggas get GA-FFO, bitch I kill every cop I meet I wanna burn this house that swapped me Im talkin smack but you hearin get your gat, i gotta start racketeerin, clearin all the koreans and all the the ones makin off of black human beings OH! give it up, it up its time for the folks to live it up a-ya-hey! it down, burn it down run the cops outta town, motherfucker so tell andy griffith that his ass b runs from the vigilante it be, a dictatorship, ran by the klu klux feel the of the afroman
let me out, let me out let me these motherfuckers what im all about let me out, let me out fuck the sheriff in the ass til he and shout let me out, let me out let me show the whole the best of me let me out, let me out let me take control of my
I CAN DO IT, I CAN IT if you dont give it to me baby, ima it fuck the industry, fuck the music biz i my own rap tape and tell it like it is revolution, - thats the solution i made the rap tape, i the CD the corporate world, GIVE THE MONEY TO ME! BITCH!
Nobody understand the fuck the police and the ku klux ima hungry hustla, east side young