[Verse Three] [Indef] Yeah, uh Bastard son as I chase no love I found music When KRS was in the Bronx sellin' drugs Before extravagant tattoo's and dubs Fake niggas Overflow with thick hoes and pro clubs The fascination of crack I rap fucked up 13 year old girls wantin' they tits touched up The image of perfection got pressure on young And can't say they time tables, know how to load a gun Know how to run from reality and one time Scene so familiar like the generation befo' mine Strays be hittin' babies, before Columbine Lunch line, I used to hit the ? with a rusty nine So I could slip home in one piece My grand momma loves me and trust me kids it's lovely I guess now more than ever, brought me to this War dog, new west, so children follow this
[Chorus] [Bishop] When you make it to the top Got the chickens on your jock E'rybody always say they "love you" But when your next album flop and you 'bout to get dropped That's when you find out they don't really "love you" Rappers talk about stacks in they hoods in they raps But they don't give back, they don't "love you" Got a thug in your life, beat you up every night God damn boo, he don't really "love you"