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If you can't stand the heat, better creep out the kitchen This music so therapeutic it could be our religion If I am my own problem, then I am my own solution We building a glass house so you can see how we living Hold up, turn the beat down and listen I was predicted to be convicted, catching them beat downs in prison By prison guards 'cause fuck authority figures, minority niggas be living hard Tell me how to see out your vision when you limit ours You're only want to see in the struggle but I got Bands in my duffel, bands, bands in my duffel Yeah, you can ask the slaughters, I don't mess with you rappers Matter of fact our third album is a message to rappers My nigga, we let you breathe Now all of them accolades from ratchet bitches and faggots in this rapping business is over It's back to the business of gangsta rapping that I'm mixing with this backpack, spitting With a Rat Pack clique of niggas, you best believe You pussy period, I bet you bleed A fake nigga that listen to snakes nigga, I bet you Eve Meanwhile I'm on my Django with my field niggas Twelve years a slave, this industry tryna kill niggas Even if they noose me, I die hanging with some real niggas And all my nephews are in my will like Uncle Phil, nigga I'm really cocky, but that's on the low like Makavelli's intro When it sounded like somebody said, "Suge shot me" I shot the shit with the niggas that shot shit up Letras de cancionesWelcome to my hood, papi Where every night's a movie but never a good copy I sat on granny couch, amped about what I'm rambling 'bout When the amp blew out I made beats with my hands and mouth The man of the house so early Little idle with the curly Blow out, running behind the girlies My nigga Jiggs nicknamed me Idle Boy, I do miss him so dearly Just Blaze, I just blaze one up Boy, I'm headed up to mobile Monday, I hope you 45's ain't dirty Don't need them bitches skipping I know I'm skipping around but fuck it 'Cause I could still bust it with random thoughts, you gotta love it Hey Crook, you my brother Royce, you my brother Joe, you my brother 4 different fathers, 4 different mothers But raised by the culture You bet we were hanging the same poster Staring at Lil Kim with her legs open Rewinding the Nas verse, blasting some Hov Dancing to Biggie, tripping off Canibus flow Don't act like Cano wasn't a savage, you know But back then my squad, everyone rapping is pro Yeah, Marshall Mathers my bro, hey, Catfish it's a go The magic of 2.0, just getting started I'm confused 'cause this healthy mindset made our album retarded I'm just playing with words, yeah, they pay me for that The stages of rap, ask these promoters, these places is packed Just killing time till that album drop Slow it down, I dissed you I said its killing time when that album drop From Letras Mania