Uh, what's good my nigga
|
Feel I write you a lil' kype
|
Let you know what's going on out here
|
Yeah
|
|
Dear Mr. Rayquon Elliott
|
They knew you as Stacks, I never meant to call out your alias
|
You prolly think I'm being rebellious, but that ain't the case
|
You turnin' over in ya grave
|
Listenin' to flows that nigga spit
|
That me and you help develop
|
And oh, I fucked that nigga bitch
|
Reminisce the days in the studio, we was makin' hits
|
Can I roll wit' you, crunch time, hooks, no punchlines
|
Crooks, no one time, we was all wave, look at now
|
Jim only sold 10 thou
|
Put his men down, they ain't have a shot
|
Put a lil' arsenal together, Yung Los, Mustard, and Al Pac
|
How hot?, niggaz think they are when they up against
|
Dropped the Quarantine, all the bitches in love wit' it
|
See me after shows, gimme groupie love
|
Copped the 750-L.I. when they see me in the Coupe they love, lugie up
|
Copped a new crib for my wifey, 'bout to start trial
|
Marty, my prosecutor, tried to knife me
|
Tried to put me back in the oranges, they want filet mignone
|
Cheese grits, and omelets
|
Problem is, always had me heart in it
|
Told you from the jump that he's a creep, money was just a part of it
|
Nigga wanted both our styles, my hooks, your flows
|
Our song, Chrissy was in the car alone
|
All the while, he was out at nights, eye twerkin'
|
Puttin' together waves, we was surfin', nigga came burstin'
|
Flyin' through the doors tryna kick my whores out on the street (Damn)
|
After I'm three songs deep
|
Now I got my own lab, two Mac Pros
|
Got the Digi-3 Pro Tools, Bigga got the vocal
|
Bigga got the (got the) soul food
|
Chicken, macaroni with the cheese, that's my homie now, Big Mook
|
Oh F O, he tried to slow me down, told me nephew showed discipline
|
Pussy aint' money, time to get it in
|
Nigga these bitches come late and get ya paper, did the bid
|
But the nigga got 8 kids
|
Anyway, back to the matter at hand, it's all the songs
|
Everybody on Hot 9, they usin' Autotunes
|
Niggaz is not wavy, Gravy, played the B.I.G. movie
|
I went to see it, woozy, moody
|
And on that note, I'm 'bout to end this shit
|
Squa-Squaaad Up
|
Really I'm representin', yeah
|
|
Representin' baby
|
My letter to Stack Bundles
|
Yeah, let ya know what's going on
|
Prolly turnin' over in ya grave
|
|
I love my family (Fuckin' wit' this man)
|
I love the way that we used to be (got me against the ropes)
|
Niggaz is gettin' trees
|
See I got that Sour D's and that Juicy Juicy (Boss Don Biggavel')
|
Baby you found my name
|
We at the penthouse, let these hoes stay-yay
|
Tell me why the road turned
|
|
Nigga ain't do one of these
|
Where's the dedication, where's the homage
|
Fuck him, I got you nigga
|
Got so many hits together dog
|
So crazy. so wavy
|
Abra-cadabra, pen-a-tow
|
M.O.B. 1, so many songs man
|
Letter to Stacks
|
Boss Don Biggavel', Oww
|
|
-----------------
|
Letter To Stack Bundles
|
Max B |