Thug Poet

[Intro: Kobe Bryant] Uh Uh huh You know what this is I'mma let 'em run around one more time I drop sumpin' on y'all It's like... it's like What's it like? [Verse 1: Kobe Bryant] My microphones and Glock nines Black? I'm dipped in that The beats, my mash, jam you for the platinum you have Run it, the illest, watch me become it I'm here, and took it bowling, like straight to the wig Speak truth like kids, tell you what you don't know Kobe? Yeah, he's real with the flow Kick in the do' wavin' the flow-flow All you heard was stop, can't take the hits no more Ha, didn't know I had your block on SWAT? I'm CIA, y'all nuttin' but beat cops I rock like my ma's mean, name is cocaine Place you on my A-fiend list and pay you 'cane Think you can handle? Not get stripped when you rock? Think again, you find you lost your mind and judgement My confidence, springs from watching y'all fall Aw, forced to hustle, rap ain't y'all? I'mma hop in your brain, tell you whatchu thinkin' Yes, I am speakin', but I ain't writin' So cold, I put the ice in nicest You too broke to pay attention My style is priceless [Chorus: Kobe Bryant and Nas] If you say murder that means I'm a Thug Poet If I say my mind kills that means I'm a Thug Poet If I say that I'm a flock that means I'm a Thug Poet And when I lay it down, it makes me a Thug Poet [Verse 2: Broady Boy] Thank the dudes for the gangs and tanks of booze Shanks and twos, it's the gangstas, Langston Hughes My poems' about broken homes and Jesus pieces Dope is the Popes in Rome Poetical field, thug overtone, it's like what, yo? Bring it home, we both could bone Pre-cord thought flow in the sober zone My life style, chromosomes frost, hope to clone The crack lust, black dust, and the gat bust The claps, the lackluster, memoirs of the black hustler Condos, Beemers, bomb hoes, coke bags, toe tags, John Does Fiends skits them into the plane of day, as plain as day It's hard to reach, to smell God anyway Money, think backdrop payin' gray? Man, rubber-gripped on that rainy day Peep the way I came to play One aim at the game, reign and stay Every stain is straight from objective, insane 'Ey just don't know, I'm two ticks from blowing a hole through music But I'm more than pimp-whoring him for the street wise You met the ren Cuz I open 'neath in the weed, hydrogen Jam my eyes to skin, guide some of our wisest men Until the skies of sin I pray for the day we see you rise again Uh [Chorus: Nas and Broady Boy] Thug Poet Street analyst is this, the Thug Poet Hustlers bang out to Thug Poet Flows for your block, Hip-Hop Thug Poet Thug Poet [Verse 3: 50 Cent] Aiyyo, everybody know 50 ain't know how to act I run up on cats with gats and aluminum bats Y'all got fat while we starved, it's my turn Shit, I done felt how a slug burned, I still won't learn Niggas in the 'hood a-tell ya "50 crazy" I had your moms screamin' "They done shot my baby" Son, I yap your shine, I clap the nine, I slap you I'm not one of them niggas you wanna fuck with I spit the shit that make ya keep listenin' Keep my wrists glistenin' I left niggas alone and they still think I'm dissin' 'em I'm on some new shit, S-Type baby blue shit Niggas talk behind my back but don't do shit I ain't looking for love, duke, I'm looking for respect I leave you with options, like die or hit the deck I'm a thug poet, you know what I came for, the dough Clap-clap, y'all niggas get the fuck on the floor, floor [Outro: Nas] (Echoes to fade) Thug Poet