Black Tape Song 7 (Message from Poet)

[Intro: Junie Morrison] "My back is behind the brick wall I got a mad truck two inches from my face (Uh-huh, uh-huh, oh yeah, yeah) It must be so easy, just turn around and go Jump all the wires, hookers and hang-ups, and you're home free (Uh-huh, uh-huh, oh yeah, yeah) Part of the natural order, made to order by your forever clever mind Constantly rejecting your things you no longer need to be protected" [Verse: Blaq Poet] Ayo, Summer Jam live, Jigga goin' at Nas Yo, what's goin' on with these guys? Next thing you know, Nas goin' at Jay "Ether" to the dome tried to blow him away Motherfuckers wanna make it to some Queensbridge—Marcy shit Believe me, New York, we don't wanna spark this shit We still rebuildin', these women and children The whole shit will turn to Ground Zero if we start illin' Look at Foxy and Kim, what's wrong with them? Both of them platinum, used to be bitches Now they wanna give each other stitches, damn Is that how it is, when niggas get riches You got 50 with Ja, 50 with Jay 50 with anybody that get in 50 way G-Unit, Jadakiss and Beanie That's a ill one believe me, they should take it to TV Cam'ron and Esco—who got the best flow? DMX, whoa, goin' at ya, little bro' And the whole Roc-A-Fella wanna get at Jaz-O Eminem, come on now, that's a no-no Disrespectin' your moms, we don't play that shit, yo Even as a crack fiend mama, black queen mama You heard 2Pac and that's the king of drama Dr. Dre should've told ya But he to busy goin' at Jermaine Dupri to show ya But Blaq Poet pull a trigger We know you nice, forget you white just rep it right nigga I look over at the Westside I see Snoop, Suge, Xzibit 'bout to collide And make some real nigga wanna cry It's like niggas forgot about Pac and B.I.  The only way to settle this, battle it out And leave the gats at the house [Outro: Blaq Poet] All these niggas is rich Nobody wanna die Nobody really wanna kill each other Everybody just need to fall back "Take your hands off of me, I know what I'm doing My baby left me, I don't feel like doing Get your hands off me I'm gonna call the cops Could you pass me my rum and coke on the— Hey, my rum and coke, I paid for it Can ya, can ya get it— Ten, nine, eight"