Hugs And Pounds

I'm sitting in the crib dreamin' about leer jets and coupes
The way salt shoops and how they sell records like snoop
Oops
I'm interrupted by a doorbell
3: 52, who the hell is this
I gets up quick
Cocks my shit
Stop the dogs from barking
Then proceed to walkin
It's a face that I seen before
My nigga sing, we used to sling on the 16th floor
Check it
I look deeper
I see blood up on his sneakers
And his fist gripped a chrome four-fifth
So I dip
Nigga, is you creepin' or speaking
He tells me c-rock just got hit up at the beacon
I opens up the door, pitiful
Is he in critical
Retaliation for this one won't be minimal
Cuz I'm a criminal
Way before the rap shit
Bust the gat shit
Puff won't even know what happened

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
Fifty shot clip if a nigga wan' test
The rocket launcher, Biggie stomped ya
High as a motherfuckin' helicopter
That's why I pack a nina, fuck a misdeameanor
Beatin' motherfuckers like Ike beat Tina
What's love got to do
When I'm rippin' all through your whole crew
Strapped like bamboo, but I don't sling guns
I got bags of funk, and it's sellin' by the tons
Niggas wanna know, how I live the mack life
Making money smoking mics like crack pipes
It's type simple and plain to maintain
I add a little funk to the brain
The funk baby