Uh uh huh
You know what this is
I'mma 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 hit's 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 ain't y'all?
I'mma 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

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

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 pieces
Dope is the Popes in Rome
Poetical field, thug overtone
It's like what, yo?
Bring it home, we both could bone
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 skit's 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

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

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 not 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

Thug Poet

Copyright: JELLYBEAN MUSIC GROUP
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