Текст: Proof. Define My Life.
Me and my momma aint close, daddy ghost like most
only for the hood riches when we broke that we all toast
got an awesome gang yesterday,
my rhyme is just press and play
born in thiscold world, shit that ain't no special day
just a reminder, you get to thirty you lucky
mother fucker that's the words of T Stuckey
grew up on Put Stones(?) and YBI
Mazaradi rig, why would I lie?
good all die
got a question your honour, listen
whatever happened to that shit death before decider?
I'm on the tip why your flipping flopper G
don't even know what he charged, when did he cop a plea?
sloppily, shit this game did change
n*ggas caught with a little work and they start naming names
I'm blaming fame, Benz's, bitches and bling
in today's world y'all treat a f*ckin snitch as a king
switches my means of income,win some, go far, in come
all the broke n*ggas and didsome(?)
youcan lose one battle but lose the war
my shoes is torn
from walking these dawgs
damn I'm talking to y'all!
while you're not involved, just nodding along
I've got to ask the church, shit, is God in the wrong?
And to You Mr. Preacher is God in the Wrong?
Y'all don't even hear me n*ggas your just nodding along
Chorus
I took this time to gripe
hear this rhyme I write
let me clearly define my life
Verse 2
Bubba Fats is the truth,
the raps out of Proof
It's all steel like the gats that I shoots
backwards I move from 86-88
where there's chambers remain here with heavy weight
so much game around me
they drown me
in this sin city
i've been busy
since sucking on my mommas thin titty
when is he stopping the world? God don't know
It's all a joke to him, watching how hard we grow
Death don't kissy you when god say it
sort of like that little whistle in Broadway
Our way, Plant workers on lines, beeper stores
healthcare, f*ck potholes we got deeper sores
reaped with wars
my man young to kill Patrick
Dexter is lovely ain't it? I'm still at it
I fill my hand with Mr. Man and Tone-Loc
when the lights burnt out in them grown folk
my bone broke
to lift this pen
let me jot this down and get this in
when I'm gone I hope y'all respect me then
let me jot this down and get this in
when I'm dead and gone I hope y'all respect me then
I'm gone
Chorus
only for the hood riches when we broke that we all toast
got an awesome gang yesterday,
my rhyme is just press and play
born in thiscold world, shit that ain't no special day
just a reminder, you get to thirty you lucky
mother fucker that's the words of T Stuckey
grew up on Put Stones(?) and YBI
Mazaradi rig, why would I lie?
good all die
got a question your honour, listen
whatever happened to that shit death before decider?
I'm on the tip why your flipping flopper G
don't even know what he charged, when did he cop a plea?
sloppily, shit this game did change
n*ggas caught with a little work and they start naming names
I'm blaming fame, Benz's, bitches and bling
in today's world y'all treat a f*ckin snitch as a king
switches my means of income,win some, go far, in come
all the broke n*ggas and didsome(?)
youcan lose one battle but lose the war
my shoes is torn
from walking these dawgs
damn I'm talking to y'all!
while you're not involved, just nodding along
I've got to ask the church, shit, is God in the wrong?
And to You Mr. Preacher is God in the Wrong?
Y'all don't even hear me n*ggas your just nodding along
Chorus
I took this time to gripe
hear this rhyme I write
let me clearly define my life
Verse 2
Bubba Fats is the truth,
the raps out of Proof
It's all steel like the gats that I shoots
backwards I move from 86-88
where there's chambers remain here with heavy weight
so much game around me
they drown me
in this sin city
i've been busy
since sucking on my mommas thin titty
when is he stopping the world? God don't know
It's all a joke to him, watching how hard we grow
Death don't kissy you when god say it
sort of like that little whistle in Broadway
Our way, Plant workers on lines, beeper stores
healthcare, f*ck potholes we got deeper sores
reaped with wars
my man young to kill Patrick
Dexter is lovely ain't it? I'm still at it
I fill my hand with Mr. Man and Tone-Loc
when the lights burnt out in them grown folk
my bone broke
to lift this pen
let me jot this down and get this in
when I'm gone I hope y'all respect me then
let me jot this down and get this in
when I'm dead and gone I hope y'all respect me then
I'm gone
Chorus