Lyrics Letter to You (Interlude) - Danny Thomas

All I want is bitches, big-booty bitches
Used to sell crack, so I could stack my riches
Now I pack gats to stop all the snitches
From staying in my business, what is this, relentless
Approach to know if I'm broke or not
Just cause I joke and smoke a lot
Don't mean I don't tote the Glock
16 shots for my niggas in the pen
Until we motherfucking meet again
I'm doing rhymes now, fuck the crimes now
Come on the ave, I'm real hard to find now
Cause I'm knee-deep in the beats
In the Land Cruiser Jeep with the MAC-10 by the seats
For the jackers, the jealous-ass crackers in the blue suits
I'll make you prove that it's bulletproof
Hold your head, cause when you hit the bricks
I got gin, mad blunts, and bitches sucking dick
The funk, baby

They wanna bury me, I'm worried, I'm losing my mind
Look down the barrel of my 9, and my vision's blurry
Never will I die, I'll be back
Reincarnated as a motherfucking mack, put the pistol to my head

Damned if I don't, and damned if a nigga do
Now watch a young motherfucker pull the trigger too
RAISE UP, and don't let them see ya cry
Dry your eyes, young nigga time for do or die
I pack a pistol in my pocket, ready on my Glock
Ain't no time for a nigga to even cock shit
I done seen a motherfucker peep pain
At point blank range cause he slept on the game
Ain't a damn thing changed, they shakin' the dice
Now roll em if you can't stand pain better hold em
Cause ain't no tellin' what ya might roll
You might fold catch AIDS from a slight cold
You better live ya life to the fullest
Be quick to kill a bull got a pistol motherfucker better pull it
And even if they kill me
They can never take the life of a young G

Bitches in the back looking righteous
In a tight dress, I think I might just
Hit her with a little Biggie 101, how to tote a gun
And have fun with Jamaican rum
Conversation, blunts in rotation
My man Big Jock got the Glock in his waist and
We're smoking, drinking, got the hooker thinking
If money smell bad, then this nigga Biggie stinking
Is it my charm? I got the hookers eating out my palm
She grabbed my arm and said "Let's leave calm"
I'm hitting skins again
Rolled up another blunt, bought a Heineken
Niggas start to loc out, a kid got choked out
Blows was thrown and a fucking fight broke out

I live Thug Life, and let the money come to me
Cause they can never take the game from a young G

Still on parole and I'm the first nigga servin'
Pour some liquor on the curb, for my homies that deserve it
If I wanna make a million, gotta stay dealin'
Kinda boomin' round the way, think today I make a killin'
Dressin' down like I'm dirty, but only on the block
Just a clever disguise, to keep me runnin' from the cops
Gettin' high I think I'll die if I don't get no ends
I'm in a bucket but I'm ridin' it like it's a Benz
I hit the strip I let my music buck
Drinkin' liquor and I'm lookin' for a bitch to fuck
Rather die makin' money, than live poor and legal
As I slang another ounce, I wish it was a kilo

So I guess you know the story, the rap-side, crack-side
How I smoked funk, smacked bitches on the backside
Bed-Stuy: the place where my head rests
50-shot clip if a nigga want test
The rocket launcher, Biggie stomped ya
High as a motherfucking helicopter
That's why I pack a Nina, fuck a misdeameanor
Beating motherfuckers like Ike beat Tina

They couldn't tell me nothin', they all tried to help to help me
The marijuana had my mind gone it wasn't healthy
I traveled places, caught cases, what a ill year
I felt the pain and the rain but I'm still here
Never did like the police, let the whole world know
Now I gets no peace, cause they chasin' me down
And facin' me now, what do I do?
These things that a Thug goes through
And still I rise