The Note (Scottie Pippen)

(альбом: Dangerous Minds - 2015)

I tried to talk, but nobody listen
So I kept it in like a body piercing
But what the fuck, man, I'm probably tripping
I be on some old bullshit, Scottie Pippen
Yeah, I be on some old bull shit

But my emotions unlikely to show
That's why I lock the door when I'm writing this note
So if you find it first, please politely just go
To anyone who gave a fuck and recite what I wrote
As I stare at this rifle I load
Standing on this chair, tippy toes as I tighten this rope
I think my mama, the nights in the cold
Fucking being poor, now she tried to lighten the load
I know at times it was mischievous
The whole reason, you and the man never succeeded
I caused trouble to the point that they would leave ya
Believe me, thought I was the only man you needed
Vodka, a corner left in this bottle
I'm sobbing, somebody pass this message to my partners
That money ain't shit, neither is these hoes
Just a bunch of shit you gotta leave here when you go, fuck it
This rap game ain't shit for me
Made a lotta foes, the only thing it ever did for me
Made a lil' dough that I never got to spend on me
'Cause everybody fucking hand was out like I was a Christmas tree
And these same niggas who envy me
Was all up in the club in my section, sipping my Hennessey
Niggas running up like, "Bro, what up? Remember me?"
How the fuck would I remember someone I ain't never seen?
The baddest broads I done ever dreamed
Was all up in my home, dome, bone, everything
But then it's crazy when you find out that they snake
It's like you better break us off, or I'ma make your fans hate you
Call up the laws and say, "This nigga tried to rape us"
And you don't stand a chance when they look this DNA up
Damn, lose-lose on some real shit
Type of stress that make a nigga hit the kill swit—

Yeah, I tried to talk, but nobody listen
So I kept it in like a body piercing
But what the fuck, man, I'm probably tripping
I be on some old bullshit, Scottie Pippen
Yeah, nigga, I be on some old bull shit
Yeah, look

Cheers to the haters
Boys wanted to see me down for years, they done made it
Tears smearing on this paper
Taking shot after shot, nowhere near feeling faded
But a nigga is faded
Though ain't no preacher or a scripture, a Bible now that could save me
And tell my ex-bitch that she's the blame
And I'ma dedicate this kill tip every fucking time she plays it
Karma, bitch, this shit is karma
And here my stupid ass was, thinking I'm important
Going through your phone, seeing pictures of Marcus Thornton like
"When the fuck did she become a fan of the Hornets"
Bitch, fucked up
Watching SportsCenter like, "I know this nigga fucked up"
Burned soul on some real shit
Type of stress that make a nigga hit the kill swit—

Yeah, I tried to talk, but nobody listen
So I kept it in like a body piercing
But what the fuck, man, I'm probably tripping
I be on some old bullshit, Scottie Pippen
Yeah, nigga, I be on some old bull shit, Scottie Pippen
Yeah, yeah, I be on some old bull shit

Pro', what's up?
Nigga, open the door, nigga
Pro', Pro'