2 Chainz - Letter To Da Rap Game
This my letter to the rap gameHip hop, I'm a product of the trap maneCrack came, I didn't know how to act maneI did what I had to do when the pack cameThis is my letter to the rap gameHip hop, I'm a product of the trap maneCrack came, I didn't know how to act maneI did what I had to do when the pack cameWu-Tang Clan, they ain't nothin to fuck, wait2 Chainz ain't nothing to fuck withNeed search warrants cause these niggaz is suspectsAll I talk is money so Chainz is the subjectCame in this motherfucker hundred grand strongTo be exact, grinding the kush pactRide with the roof back, live with a suit actKilling em, so I am dying my suit blackDear rap game, you are I'll homieHavin me thinking we were gon' make some real moneyCame from the streets, I'm a beast, capiche?Lock my dick in the mail by the bills heldAnd hey rap game, the real comin'The way I'm murking these niggaz hope your will comin'And when you're numb, it's kind of hard to feel somethin'I'm the type to get rich and still hustle, yeahAnd before I leave let me say this, play thisHave my niggaz dead or in jail like AsicFace it, back to the basics2 Chainz on them bitches, looking like Vegas, the greatestMy worlds coming to an end, speaking philosophicalSix's on the coupe, when they said it was impossibleGot the type of guns to make the city feel uncomfortableAnd we breaking bricks down, till the last moleculeCherish the horizon, sun blessed party, heyThinking 'bout this business, and it's time that I gave awayTrying to make a plan today, niggaz on there wayLocked in confinement, gotta learn to levitateAnd on the inside, my instinct, I surviveAll I got left is pride, touchdown, I'mma rideI was raised as a bossDamn, I let a nigga take me offAnd let him tell Josh that his pops was softMothafuckerRocking blood diamonds, cooling in the hood with the goonsCame on this, Cam is trying to buy us some GuccisIt's a movie made, regardless, my crooks is the hardestBuying crazy pots and pans, stay in apartmentsBank roll was all we ever neededWhile niggaz was weeded, playing space, and pumping crack in the ceilingJust fly young with heart, I sift in the parkMade sales, blazed a few shells, yeah who cares who you areI'm honest, I make you cry like onionsStay in your lane, beat the name and we doneI was legend yet, now my papar stretching, yeah, that's itGo ask the Rocky Glass, "I class act?"Villas, moving-making guerrillas, the willasThe guest-star gun fights, squeeze on the squealersDon't come near me, niggaIf you don't got no money, fear meMatter fact, move it, ya hear me?
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