Unsolved Mysteries
(Children?ChildrenPlease be quiet children and listen to what I have to say)[ Eightball ]1-2, nigga1-2, niggaYeah niggaMic check, niggaSuave click in the motherfuckin houseEightball the Fat Mack finna start this shit off for the nine-fizziveNahmsayin?Pump that shit up, let's do this[ VERSE 1: Eightball ]1-2-3, Mister BIG, pull a rhyme out of my mindAnd shoot it like a Glock-9 17 timesLike Rakim I ain't no joke, here's the deal on the realNigga, watch out for that banana peelSlip and catch the same thing I put into the clipOut the other endUnderstand or should I come again?See, like Mac Mall I be sick wid this, so picture thisMy pockets spittin out much green shit like The ExcorcistI smoke so many trees Smokey the Bear is out to get meIce cold soul drippin from my assholeAnd I can't wipe it away cause this kinda funk is here to stayJust like an AK when I spray off all that's in my wayCall me the Glock of Rap, now could this mean that I'm the best?Or would you rather wait to feel that hot shit in yo chest?I pray to God hopin I won't be on the receiving endCause them young puppies packin straps like ( ? )Now if I said I was Macbeth I'd be a lyin manBut where I'm from if I'm not strapped I be a dyin manCause niggas snort that shit like Superfly and get so highAnd when they ass out that shit will make 'em do or dieBut me, I'm on that green sticky and that Hennessy350 pounds of pimp nigga from TennesseeEightball uncut from your ears to yo gutPeace to MJ fucking GAnd now here's T[ VERSE 2: Tela ]( ? ) hit that lobby, man, dead bodies, manMr. Mike musta took his dick out, any shotty, manI see my nigga big Ball off that wallLike that Michael Jackson, what the fuck, nigga happened?He says I'm late for the job, SuaveHandle it, shit candle lit was involved, nodMy head up and down with no hesitation, GodI'm seein clowns hangin from that gravition, I'mThinkin niggas ain't playin in TexasSnap off these motherfuckin necks like on The ExcorcistYoung and the Restless type of unsolved shitSouth Circle's the clique, fuckin Suave's the shitBitch, and now I'm rollin with them Draper boysTela makin paper, boy5-0 beater, ain't nothin like sweeter, boySlow down, damn, I'm askin them in a MaximumHittin corners shakin, breakin down marijuanaEightball, you got them papers, make 'em take us to a cloud nineSix shots from a Tec-9I'm fuckin up, damn, here we go( ?) stereo I think I'm ( ? ) cold as SiberioBut Mr. Mike had his Mr. Mic, soAnd SuperMike flashed with kryptonite, I knowIt's lookin kinda shadyBut I got yo back, baby, with my .380[ VERSE 3: Mr. Mike ]Now... I'm creepin around the backwayPeepin the scenery, because these niggas can't be seein meHe packs a Glock with an extra clipIt's mass hysteria, I'm darin ya to step when I drop my shitAs I annoint niggas to make my point, niggaMe gives a fuck as I rock dis funky joint, niggaSo bow yo head to the mastermindCause everytime I recline some nigga's always after mine(Peace treaties) Naw, fuck that (Why?)Cause niggas don't wanna act how they know they ought to actBack in the days when we used to sling ki's by the d-o-z'se--s, ooh, what a messBest to leave me aloneAnd I ain't Kane but bitch, Big Daddy's Home24 hours a day I slayPronounced dead, two to his head, he bled from an AKUnsolved mysteries, could it beMe and you, you and me gettin caught up in some fuckery?Luckily the switch didn't click and niggas didn't panicNow I'm stuffin white shit in my atticHad it not been for the chip on my shoulderNiggas that I communicated with would be olderBut it seems they all diedAnd now the streets wanna fuck and get stuck with that nigga Mike