Homie, don't bother this fatherless child

Niggaz wit problems get shot in the eusophagus, set off the apocolypse now

the projectiles choppin' you down

cock it and blaaw

robbin' you for every profit in ya pocket and smile

My cannon dismantle you, let it off like roman candles

point two nines at you with bandana's on the handles

blast through ya flannels

we just Sopranos smashin' in astro vans with ammo stashed in the panels

we animals when it's drama

move like mechanical anaconda's, we hannibals, cannibals, and piranha's

the last nigga with info that hand over the fed's

the homie's jumped in the hummer, ran over his head

hand over your bread

we snatch you out your land rover, choke ya

smoke ya while we stand over your bed

just to let ya know, this is westcoasonostra

ever since Pac passed you thought the westcoast was over

but look closer and you're liable to find

My homicidal recitals' the kind that inspires a guy to rewind

king of survival, the title is mine

I write for ya spine and stifle ya mind with a cycle of triflin' rhymes

It ain't a gangsta that us hustlaz won't reach

we bust just to touch the cold streets

you bustas won't cease

and that's why my next tattoo will say "no justice, no peace..."

plus "fuck the police"



(yeah.. that's how we do this shit... Rap 101)

(yeah, get your bars up)

(your metaphors and similies ain't right)

(ya know what I'm talkin' about?)

(you old niggaz, just keep a fresh swagger)

(you new niggaz, learn your history in this hip-hop culture and you'll be

alright)

(this is the art of MC'ing.. this is Rap 101)

(listen and learn..)



Nigga, I wish you would speak on my label

I'll walk in your house, put my feet on your table, see what's on cable

soon as you speak, shots leave you leakin' from navel

rock you to sleep in a cradle, you geeks weak and unable

we can disable haters from Tennessee to Diego

Long Beach to Vallejo

law low, a yo, we givin' niggaz wings and a halo

squeezin' them thangs so easily without seein' a reason to say no

they ask, "why ya by yourself?"

cuz I walked into the firearm store, tried to buy the entire shelf

to jackers out to acquire wealth

I fire shells, while ya yell, I serve ya like the hired help

My science are sins, my mind tire within

the bad guy wins like the giant got goliath's revenge

puttin' 5 in ya benz, tie up ya wife in it then

quiet your friends with gunfire as maniacal rhyme sire begins to strike like

a viper and snipe ya again

you can recite what'cha like but ya fight for ya life cuz the "I" can ignite

the mic and he's slightly tighter than you when he write with the pen

who's rivalin' him?



(It's Rap 101)

(teachin' you the art of MC'ing)

(I hope you all takin' notes out there, ya know)

(or I'm a flunk you dumb asses)

(yeah, get them metaphors up)

(get your patterns and rhyme schemes together)

(how you gonna let my timin' be better than your rhymin'?)

(It's Rap 101)

(to all you A&R's out there...)

(if it don't sound like this, it don't like shit...)

(yeah, it's Rap 101...)