Gossip

I hate gossip, and I don't walk around looking for it, ya know?

But yesterday it seemed to just wander around until it found me

You know like, gossip found me

Then why don't you try proving it?

How? You don't know how to prove it?

Well, what you just do is

Stop hatin' on a ****

That is a weak emotion, the lady of a ****

And you can get tipped like you waitin' on a ****

Put a body bag and a apron on a ****

I give my all behind the mic

But you could never see if you sit behind the light

You don't have to pick me to win the title fight

But I'm a wear that championship belt so tight

And if I'm wrong, there is no right

And if I'm wrong, there is no white

I'm tryna be polite

But you bitches in my hair like the fucking po-lice

And my flow is rare, these other rappers nice

These other rappers bark, some of 'em even bite

But I'm much more bright, I give the game sight

So before you dim the light, you just might, might wanna

Think it over, think it over

Ooh, think it over, think it over, baby baby

Stop analyzing, criticizing

You should realize what I am and start epitomizing

Legitimate I got the heart of the biggest lion

I'm confident like fuck 'em all, pull out my dick and ride it

My flow sick, so sick it's like my shit is dying

It rains a lot in my city because my city's crying

Because my city's dying still I emerge from all of that

I am a living pioneer, near Zion

Fear God, not them

Steer my Robin Coupe through the streets of the booth and SuWoo

And then I leak blood in the booth, I leave a blood bath

Sorry there's a tub in the booth, now where the drugs at?

I'm twisted like the strings on a shoe, no, ****, fuck that

I'm twisted like the strings on a boot, now where New Orleans at?

I feel hip hop stole me like a bus pass

So, in your possession I-I-I must ask

Hey, haven't I been good to you?

Tell me, haven't I been sweet to you?

Drag my name through the mud, I come out clean

Cast away stones, I won't even blink

A gun is not a math problem, I won't even think

Just leave you dead like the mink under my sink

Don't believe in me, don't believe me

I've graduated from hungry and made it to greedy

My flow is like pasta, take it and eat it

But I'm a need cheese if I'm baking a ziti

You **** want beef? I want a steak in the weed b

Lost in Amsterdam or Jamaica where weed be

Hard body **** just taking it easy

All about my paper, 'bout my paper like Eazy

Why do rappers? Why do rappers? Lotta fans, lotta rappers

Lotta rappers lie like actors, cut the mother fucking cameras

Cut the check, ****, fuck your props

And make it out to Mr. Hip Hop

I'm not dead, I'm alive