Kobe Bryant Thug Poet Lyrics

Thug Poet Lyrics

f/ 50 Cent, Broady Boy, Nas







* from the forthcoming album "Visions"







[Kobe]



Uh



Uh huh



You know what this is



I'ma let 'em run around one more time



I drop sumpin' on y'all



It's like... it's like



What's it like?







My microphones and glock nines



Black? I'm dipped in that



The beats, my mash, jam you for the platinum you have



Run it, the illest, watch me become it



I'm here, and took it bowling, like straight to the wig



Speak truth like kids, tell you what you don't know



Kobe? Yeah, he's real with the flow



Kick in the do' wavin' the flow-flow



All you heard was stop, can't take the hits no more



Ha, didn't know I had your block on SWAT?



I'm CIA, y'all nuttin' but beat cops



I rock like my ma's mean, name is cocaine



Place you on my A-fiend list and pay you 'cane



Think you can handle? Not get stripped when you rock?



Think again, you find you lost your mind and judgement



My confidence, springs from watching y'all fall



Aw, forced to hustle, rap in charge



I'ma hop in your brain, tell you whatchu thinkin'



Yes, I am speakin', but I ain't writin'



So cold, I put the ice in nicest



You too broke to pay attention



My style is priceless







[Kobe]						[Nas]



If you say murder that means I'm a		Thug Poet



If I say my mind kills that means I'm a 	Thug Poet



If I say that I'm a flock that means I'm a 	Thug Poet



And when I lay it down, it makes me a		Thug Poet







[Broady Boy]



Thank the dudes for the gangs and tanks of booze



Shanks and twos, it's the gangstas, Langston Hughes



My poems' about broken homes and Jesus peaces



Dope is the Popes in Rome



Poetical field, thug overtone, it's like what, yo?



Bring it home, we both go gone



Pre-cord thought flow in the sober zone



My life style, chromosomes frost, hope to clone



The crack lust, black dust, and the gat bust



The claps, the lackluster, memoirs of the black hustler



Condos, Beemers, bomb hoes, coke bags, toe tags, John Does



Fiends skits them into the plane of day, as plain as day



It's hard to reach, to smell God anyway



Money, think backdrop payin' gray?



Man, rubber-gripped on that rainy day



Peep the way I came to play



One aim at the game, reign and stay



Every stain is straight from objective, insane



'Ey just don't know, I'm two ticks from blowing a hole through music



But I'm more than pimp-whoring him for the street wise



You met the ren



Cuz I open 'neath in the weed, hydrogen



Jam my eyes to skin, guide some of our wisest men



Until the skies of sin



I pray for the day we see you rise again



Uh







[Nas]		[Broady]



Thug Poet	Street analyst is this, the



Thug Poet	Hustlers bang out to



Thug Poet	Flows for your block, Hip-Hop



Thug Poet



Thug Poet







[50 Cent]



Aiyyo, everybody know 50 ain't know how to act



I run up on cats with gats and aluminum bats



Y'all got fat while we starved, it's my turn



Shit, I done felt how a slug burned, I still won't learn



Niggas in the 'hood a-tell ya "50 crazy"



I had your moms screamin' "They done shot my baby"



Son, I yap your shine, I clap the nine, I slap you



I'm that one of them niggas you wanna fuck with



I spit the shit that make ya keep listenin'



Keep my wrists glistenin'



I left niggas alone and they still think I'm dissin' 'em



I'm on some new shit, S-Type baby blue shit



Niggas talk behind my back but don't do shit



I ain't looking for love, duke, I'm looking for respect



I leave you with options, like die or hit the deck



I'm a thug poet, you know what I came for, the dough



Clap-clap, y'all niggas get the fuck on the floor, floor







[Nas] (Echoes to fade)



Thug Poet