This a Cadillac slap and Zach is back Actually active, no time has passed Every second reckon that we wreckin failed, dont ask And they question what we reppin like we some new jack We sons of the slums and the dumb dont pack Cause we run no straps, guns cause no nap Cause we all asleep 6, 4 feet deep You feel that heat?, no Santa Ana winds Gins and the juice, G funk made us loose I just hit em with the truth n not only in the booth I hit em real honest you can call me Boothe Maybe Abe let me, spit it all through In the tube, on the web, in the streets, on a ledge Wait, my bad, sorry Rakim In a tent, in my village, I was bred in The North What I meant Imma kill it, then dump it at the shore... By Pierpont, then ima go for more Open up a business, probably a morgue Cause I tore and I ate, all of these beats I need produce for songs, the kid just wanna eat Pleasssse, generic, I just love writing Writtens, soul, require no timing Time for rhymes with no blindin and circles with some binding Climbing, grinding, wont hit my thresh But Im content, cause Christ killed my flesh And Im deafened by the decibels of all the debt he paid N Death talks, evil stalks so we just play But gauge that, no ears, what ya gonna do? Follow ya maker, get up from the pew So proof aint in the henn but the proof in you Thought you knew jack man?, you dont Hugh
pleasssse, pierpont, boothe, thresh, proof