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"You goin overboard with all that, "fuck New York shit"
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trying to dis Brooklyn, but the Boogie 'bout to talk shit
|
and ain't no fun, if the Dula can't get none
|
risin in the East, I'm bout to set it on the West, son
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Listen, I ain't even down with who you dissen
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far as I'm concerned NY been ass -kissen
|
for the longest, on the live side I'ma dead it
|
you aint a trooper, I know that's all super-unleaded
|
gas you inhaled from all your record sales
|
cause you went to California and blew up, but you fail
|
tryin to dis the big apple, I aint supposed to wanna battle
|
for a million dollar raffle? You gettin gaffled
|
soon as I see you got a million
|
after the battle, I be like "oooh what a feeeelin"
|
Toyota will be selling me they biggest Landcruiser
|
money green so ngas could fiend like drug users
|
winners slap users like pimp slap hoes
|
and we know Suge is pimpin them hoes on Death Row
|
you actin like you wanna beef, but talkin below me
|
you ain't a real thug, you a real CaliPhoney
|
**
|
Who Shot Ya? No it wasn't me and my peeps
|
you're talking bout New York, wordup, like something sweet
|
don't fool yourself, this ain't New York Undercover
|
it's real like the history of your father and mother
|
I'm sayin, think about that shit that you did
|
had a shootout in NY, raped a bitch, did a bid
|
like you proud of that, then let the world know it happened
|
first of all you fuckin up for other nga's rappin
|
how you makin movies, selling records, doin tours,
|
then be up in Denemora (sp), scrubbin other ngas' drawers?
|
the whole point in being criminal is gettin paid
|
son, you paid already, actin Crazy like Eddie
|
Fuck a Thug Life, ngas die being unlawful
|
let that peer pressure stress ya somethin awful
|
with the world in ya hand, fuck a man, be a King
|
you aint even a man cause you under the wing
|
Heltah Skeltah from the shelter, need protection
|
now you're one of Suge Knight's sons, runnin for election
|
against Snoop Dog for that top dog spot
|
Death Row, Prisoner-of-the-month on lock.
|
***
|
Now everybody know you from them roles you be playin
|
so all that make a record shit aint even worth sayin
|
west coast rappers go platinum in a second
|
cause west coast ngas go out and buy records
|
but east coast rappers be on conceited shit
|
the wack emcees here make repeated hits
|
they get star-struck and stop giving a fuck
|
and lyrically, half these ngas suck, and what
|
just put the real rappers in the ring
|
let your man bring the beats and whoever do they thing
|
fuck a record sale, fuck a phoney reputation,
|
fuck a pimp record label and them suck-dick stations.
|
Show skills, how ya flow skills, rock a party-
|
live from the heart, in front of everybody
|
without a shotty, ain't no need for all that
|
get your stupid ass some rikers & tracks, fuck the gats
|
my people out in Cali aint got nothin to do with this
|
you on your own dick, "POTNA", and you new to this
|
I could never dis my peeps in the west
|
but, that dissin Biggie shit, we still ain't impressed...
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-----------------
|
NY Love
|
| King Sun |
