LYRIC

2Pac:

The plan, to take command of the whole family

Though underhanded, to be the man it was planned

All my road dawgs, official mob niggaz love to act up

The first to bomb we rob niggaz

I can be, lost in my own mind

To be the boss only thought's grip on chrome nines

Niggaz get tossed up, war scars, battlefield memories

Swore I saw the devil in my empty glass of Hennesey

Talkin to a nigga on a tight leash

Screamin "Fuck the police," as I ride through the night streets

Lil' child runnin wild, toward his danger

What's the cause don't be alarmed death to all strangers

Maybe I'm a madman

A pistol grabbin nigga unleash the Sandman

Promisin merciless retaliation, nothin is colder

Close your eyes, hear the ballad of a dead soldier

Eazy-E:

Now everythings good in my hood

And its on and pop and Eazy-Muthaphukkin-E

From East Side South Compton

Str8 givin' up the real

On how a nigga feel talk that shit

Muthaphukkaz caps get peeled

Layin' low in the cut

Gettin how than a muthaphuka niggaz knows whats up

I'm that gangsta, gangsta is that what there still yellin'

Nigga G to a T saggin' and bailin'

Live by the gun you know what I'm sayin' Ren

"Yea"

So I guess I'll die by that muthaphukka then

So when I die niggaz bury me

Make sure my shit reads Eazy-Muthaphukkin-E

And it's a fact to be exact my tombstone should read:

He Put Compton On That Map

And thats how a nigga feel

When I'm givin' up Tha Muthaphukkin Real

Biggie:

Frank White the menacing, Chron Chron's the medicine

I got the lettuce and, you turn green like cucumber skin

Got the new, Hummer in the summer when I was a new comer

Then, drugs and MAC-10s

Hugs from fake friends, make ends they hate you

Be broke -- girls won't date you

That's why I relate to, choke yo' ass out til your face blue

Make you, open the safe too

No matter how you call it (how you call it)

This brolic, alcoholic

Like his weed green'd out, like his brick solid

Distribute to, kids who, take heart like Valentine

Drink Ballantine, all the time

Slugs hit your chest tap you spine, flatline

Heard through the grapevine, you got fucked fo' times

Damn that three to nine, fucked you up for real though

Sling steel slow, as for remorse, we feel no

Eazy-E, The Notorious B.I.G. - Strapped - lyrics
1 / 5 of 1 votes


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