We here.
I said, we here.
The back of Tha Carter,
The back of Tha Carter II, uh!
Yeah, this here is the end of Tha Carter II, people.
Hey! I got the game on ball and chain,
I threw the key in the drain,
I'm like the king in the drought,
I spent a G on these frames, though my vision is priceless,
Seein' through you n**gas like a fuckin' psychic.
Hearin' through the grapevine n**gas wanna hate mine,
Say my name and die in the daytime,
You catch my drift, man, you better be Pathon,
Boy, the heats on, they make a peace bond.
I'm in this bitch, throwin' up the 17 sign,
Straight frowns, no daps, strapped three times,
A Tec-11, AK-47, one Beretta, ready for whatever,
Tell them pussy n**gas come together.
Heavy wetter n**ga, supersoaker wetter n**ga,
Six feet under flowers, you ain't nothing but a petal n**ga,
I'm just a little n**ga, tryna be a civil n**ga,
Thirty years old, shit, that'll be a given, n**ga.
Quit it, Wayne, your Mom is listenin',
But she ain't really trippin' ‘cause the pots is pissed in,
Them n**gas trippin', until the shots whistlin',
Hear them bullets hissin' like a cobra at attention.
I've got a bitch, and quit callin' women bitches,
As long as she don't worry ‘bout the coke in the kitchen,
No preventin' the crime, I gotta get it,
I'm admitted to the game, true playa, no quitting.
There you go, shittin' on the way a n**ga thinkin',
Only history I know is Benjamin Franklin,
And since the future ain't promised to no one,
I live everyday like this is the sure one.
Train in the tidal wave, this is the ocean,
Stand in the heat till the mothafuckin' snow come,
And it feels so fuckin' good,
Throw my dope like a rope, let them tug and pull.
No hope for the hopeless, rats and roaches,
Runnin' ‘cross the porch, in the attic there's a fortune,
Come and get it, automatics in motion,
We bangin' for the bread, n**ga, even the molded.
I got my loaf, I got my toast,
Chaperone of the south: I got my coast, yeah!
And until I die I'm the best rapper alive.
