[Verse 1]
I swear this famous shit just happened overnight
For sure these hoes was so uptight, but now they so polite
All I see is fake love, smiles, and overbites
But I'm pimping, nigga: Dolemite
I remember when, I was like ten, maybe nine
Ricky had a deuce-deuce, two shotty pumps with a baby nine
Busta had the rhymes, Puffy had the Shyne
Bone Thugs had Mo Thugs but that was the shit, that made me rhyme
What's up, what's on your mind? Hold up, I'm feeling fine
Locs got me blind, thugging like I'm Eazy-E up in his prime
Another young nigga with a attitude
I guess that's why the crackers kept me after school
Roaches on the wall, roaches on the dresser
Everybody had roaches but our roaches ain't respect us
On the park bench playing checkers, sipping nectar
Girbaud jeans with hologram straps and reflectors
We had cookouts and dirt bikes and dice games and fistfights
And fish fries and shootouts like one Sig with two rounds
And one click left two down, that's four kids but one lived
Left three dead, but one split, that one miss, that one snitched
That's everyday shit, shit we used to that
Add it up, do the math with your stupid ass
Don't view me as no conscious cat, this ain't no conscious rap
Fuck the conscious crap, my mac'll push your conscience back
I do this for my culture, penny, nickels in the sofa
Mommy watching Oprah, Daddy in the kitchen whipping soda
Cook-connect named Sosa, Spanish chick Viola hit it in the chocha
With the Testarossa, hit Daytona, fuck the law, we soldiers
I'm 'bout it 'bout it, nigga ain't shit sweet about me
The baddest bitches on the block be even speaking 'bout me
I'm so thuggish ruggish bringing ruckus, knucking if you bucking
Young and thugging, bugging showing out in public, but you love it
I swear this famous shit just happened overnight
For sure these hoes was so uptight, but now they so polite
All I see is fake love, smiles, and overbites
But I'm pimping, nigga: Dolemite
I remember when, I was like ten, maybe nine
Ricky had a deuce-deuce, two shotty pumps with a baby nine
Busta had the rhymes, Puffy had the Shyne
Bone Thugs had Mo Thugs but that was the shit, that made me rhyme
What's up, what's on your mind? Hold up, I'm feeling fine
Locs got me blind, thugging like I'm Eazy-E up in his prime
Another young nigga with a attitude
I guess that's why the crackers kept me after school
Roaches on the wall, roaches on the dresser
Everybody had roaches but our roaches ain't respect us
On the park bench playing checkers, sipping nectar
Girbaud jeans with hologram straps and reflectors
We had cookouts and dirt bikes and dice games and fistfights
And fish fries and shootouts like one Sig with two rounds
And one click left two down, that's four kids but one lived
Left three dead, but one split, that one miss, that one snitched
That's everyday shit, shit we used to that
Add it up, do the math with your stupid ass
Don't view me as no conscious cat, this ain't no conscious rap
Fuck the conscious crap, my mac'll push your conscience back
I do this for my culture, penny, nickels in the sofa
Mommy watching Oprah, Daddy in the kitchen whipping soda
Cook-connect named Sosa, Spanish chick Viola hit it in the chocha
With the Testarossa, hit Daytona, fuck the law, we soldiers
I'm 'bout it 'bout it, nigga ain't shit sweet about me
The baddest bitches on the block be even speaking 'bout me
I'm so thuggish ruggish bringing ruckus, knucking if you bucking
Young and thugging, bugging showing out in public, but you love it
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