i dont sell yay get my kicked in by the kkk shoulda the police lookin for the quarter piece inside my
from the of the ghetto i try to ya my music on a CD or rap i it then take it to the mom and store for a cash flo' from the mom and store
dont no more rappers on consignment find another come back climate people don't know who you is you need a name in the biz
album, for one, has no promotion your elbows and kneecaps no lotion your ashy, music is trashy outkast, inside they me out the door is they catch me (WHERE?) into the street (WHERE YOU GOIN?) now im on my way to swap (SAY WHAT?) to make a mil without a record deal selling tapes off the back of my Coupe de (Bucka!)
Hustlin on the street is in a fight with the security guard talkin 'no solicitin, no publicitin' I try to to him but nope he not listenin Punk ass, flunk ass, cant dunk ass skunk ass, ass, sufferin suckatash! Now i'm seein a black guard for a Korean tellin me i cant be in the that i be in you can spend money here you make no money here you get outta here ya here here did i make myself i go and a beer til im in my belly big as elliot (EEEEEE!)
I'm so plus overstressed rap so hard im obsessed sometimes i cock my heat make them punks my song on the beat (BUCKA!!!!)
let me out, let me out let me show the whole what im all about let me out, let me out let me rap til the party scream n shout let me out, let me out let me the whole world the best of me let me out, let me out let me take of my destiny
depressed, smokin, black, monster, sellin, money, down for a murder, roberta flack get dressed up, get my tapes up 'cause the industry is messed up, baby! i throw a party as i sip bacardi sell on! rap tapes, i need nobody ima givin, colt 45 sippin its the year 2000 and my gerri curl still it might strange in my rhyme but im from the coast i cant change the hands of time i am is what i am if you dont like what i am i give a damn black pecker's my title, john king is my im thoughts thats suicidal, young rival i dont care 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 much shit, why you got hit walkin home with your split while i sit, yay, eryday (BUCKA!) N.W.A. (BUCK-BUCKA-BUCKA!) cruisin the street in my 6 A---FRO niggas get GA-FFO, bitch I wanna kill every cop I I wanna burn down this house that me Im talkin smack but you aint get your gat, i gotta start racketeerin, clearin all the and all the europeans the ones makin money off of black human OH! give it up, it up its time for the folks to live it up a-ya-hey! burn it down, it down run the white cops town, motherfucker so tell andy that his punk ass b runs from the vigilante it be, a dictatorship, ran by the klu klan 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 the sheriff in the ass til he scream and shout let me out, let me out let me show the whole world the of me let me out, let me out let me take control of my
I CAN DO IT, I CAN IT if you give it to me baby, ima take it the music industry, fuck the music biz i make my own rap tape and tell it it is revolution, revolution - thats the i the rap tape, i made the CD fuck the corporate world, GIVE THE TO ME! BITCH!
Nobody understand the fuck the and the ku klux klan ima hungry hustla, east side busta