What the fuck, y'all niggaz supposed to be family man

Niggaz out here fightin in the street and shit man





After ten long, years, guess who comin, home

Uncle Rahiem who got busted with the chrome

But this sorta uncle's like Rich Porter's uncle

So he be in my shoebox and messin with my hustle

This nigga keep playin around we gon' have to tussle

Cause this ain't, back in the days when he had all the muscle

And used to be on Hollis with Joey Simmons and Russel

So I'm here to clap my things, and figure out this puzzle

Cause what'll make this nigga think he could come to my momma house

If he wasn't family I'd probably pull the llama out

But I'm a go the karma route, ever go to the karma route

Well you know, nigga be buckin with the armor out

But this nigga be on the couch and watchin my pockets hard

Peekin through the blinds when I pull up and park the car

And read between the lines when I push up to talk to broads

Startin real live, we gon' definitely wind up at odds

Cause if I see another shirt, offa my wardrobe

I'm a turn this lil' happy home to a war zone

And if I find another piece missin from my package

He'd better grab his piece cause this time we goin at it





Cause this nigga right here must got it out for me (uhh)

This nigga right here must got it out for me (uhh) / (yeah)

Cause I solemnly swear that we about to see

Cause this nigga right here must got it out for me

"I told that motherfucker grip up, grip up; nigga grip up, grip up

And I'll be waitin right here when you slip up"





Uhh; cause after six long, months, guess who's unem-ployed

Uncle Rahiem, cause he been runnin with his boy

And now he got a girlfriend, this fiend named Joy

I guess he bad smokin but I'm tryin to keep my poise

But if my momma tell me some'n missin from her jewelry box

I'm a probably be trapped by my peers in a jewelry box

I try to love him my heart, and disregard my brain

But ever since he moved in, the crib's been off the chain

I don't need no one to blame cause the facts are the facts

Since the word got back to me just as fast as a fax

Cause I got cash in the jack, askin me what I'm doin

How you gon' work this hard and let your hustle get ruined?

And I had to admit, that that's a point well taken

Here's the world of price I'm payin for the L that I'm takin

Cause the trouble he done caused done got my connects and them stallin

Cause now I got the hottest crib in all of {? }

So when I see 10-4, my body parts I'll

Cause I'm scared to death they might give me the mob grill

Cause ever since he gave out our number like Mike Jones

Them di-rects be comin at me harder than Spike Jones

So I hope his parole officer, ask where he live

So I could say "No officer, this not where he live

And I ain't seen the nigga and don't know what he did

And he'll get by later 'til he through with his bid"

I know it sounds cold like the wind below freezing

You might not understand but I got my own reasons

Cause once we at odds I could only get even

But maybe my foolish pride is why we in the precinct









Word to my mother I'm a FUCK you up when we get out of here

(Nigga you ain't doin shit, pussy!)

Aight, watch son, soon as I post bail, nigga, I'm a come holla at you

(Nigga you ain't doin nothin)

You fuckin crackhead-ass nigga, fuckin my shit up

(Yo son, word to my mother man

Call me a crackhead again and we got a fuckin problem nigga

I changed your motherfuckin diapers punk!)

Yeah aight nigga, whatever bitch