Testi musica canzoni

You could get the finger
Come and get some!!
The middle.
Aaaww yeah!
They love to point the finger.
Boom!Boom!Boom! on your black ass, bitch.
-Chorus repeats-

I thought I hit rock bottom,
Then my album point the finger.
I guess nobody loves a real nigga-slash-rap singer.
I thought I`d bring a little truth to the young troops.
I brought proof that the niggas need guns too.
It`s not to be a racist, but let`s face this.
Wouldn`t you if we could trace places.
I got lynch spots from the cops.
And till this day, the same motha fucka on the beats gettin major pay.
But whenI get my techa-techa techs out.
So, we prayin for these pigs to knock the blacks out.
Ain`t that a bitch.
Some officers`ll get rich.
Whoopin on thugs and robbin drug dealers for their shit.
As far as jealousy, being a celebrity,
No matter who committed the crime, they all yell at me.
And the media is greedier than most.
You could sell em your soul and they`ll be on ya till a nigga`s a ghost.
And everyday I read the paper, there`s another lie.
They show my picture for the crimes of another guy. Now how`s that for the life of a big shot.
A dead cop, a law suit, a little kid shot.
I play them funky ass marks in the park
By tryin to earn their stripes in the dark.
Just cuz I come here, don`t mean I from here.
Peep.
Only jealous motha fucka beef.
Point the finger.
-Chorus repeats-
As I run up on a mad man, a nut case with a screw loose.
A zoot troupe full of foolies with toolies.
Niggas run to me.
Don`t come to me with beef.
Take your jewels and your jeep.
Boom! Boom!, let that ass sleep.
It`s gettin hectic.
Niggas run quick.
Buckshots are the payback for dumb shit.
All you niggas on the block