Gossip - Album Version (Edited)

I hate gossip… and I don't walk around
looking for it ya know
But yesterday it seemed to just wonder
around until it found me
You know like gossip found me
And why don't you try it
Huh, you don't know,
Well what you just do is...
Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop
Stop, hating on a nigga
Dat is a weak emotion, da lady of a nigga
And you can tipped like ya waitin on a nigga
Putta body bag and a apron on a nigga…
I give my all behind da mic
But you could never see if you sit behind da light
And you don't have to pick me to win da title fight
But I'mma wear dat champion belt sooo tight
And if I'm wrong there is no right
And if I'm wrong there is snow white
I'm tryna be po-lite but you bitches in my hair
Like da fucking po-lice And my flow is rare
These other rappers nice, these other rappers bark,
some of 'em even bite
But I'm much more bright I give the game sight
But before you dim the lights you just might, might, wanna
Think it over, think it over (Oooooo)
Think it over, think it over (Baby, baby)
Stop... analyzin critacizin,
You should realize what I am and start epitomizin
Legitimate, I got the heart of the biggest lion
I'm confident like fuck em all pull out my dick and ride it
My flow sick, so sick, its like my shit is dyin
It rains a lot in my city, cause my city's cryin
because my city's dyin
Still I emerge from all of that I am a living pion-eer, near Zion
Fear God, not them
Steer my Robin Coupe through thestreets of the boot... and
Soo-woo
And, then I leave blood in the booth, I leave a blood bath,
Sorry theres a tub in the booth, now where the drugs at?
I'm twisted like the string on a shoe
No nigga fuck dat
Im twisted like the string on a boot, now where New Orleans at?
I feel hip hop stole me like a bus pass
so in your possession, I, I, I must ask…
Hey, havent I been good to you? (Think it over)
Tell me; havent I been sweet to you
Drag my name through the mud I come out clean
Cast away stones
I wont even blink
A gun is not a math problem,
I wont even think
Just leave you dead like the mink under my sink
Dont believe in me
Dont believe me
I graduated from hungry,
And made it to greedy
My flow is like pasta
Take it and eat it
But Im gone need cheese if Im bakin lasini
You niggas want beef?
I want a steak and uh, we be
Lost in Amsterdam or Jamaica where we be
Hard body nigga, just taken it easy
All about my paper, bout my paper like Easy
Why do rappers Why to rappers, lie to fans
Lie to rappers, a lot rappers lie like actors cut the mothafuckin camera
Cut the checks nigga fuck your props
And make it out to Mr. Hip-Hop
i aint dead im alive