Jim Jones: Tupac joint

Rumors that were said, shot in cold bloodTwo up in my head, can't talk phone buggedSomebody want me dead, but I'm still flossin'I rock my jewelry through the scurriest streetsI keep my ears to the streetsAnd I ain't scared of policeLord knows that I got various beefsSo could you pray for the weekYou know the rules play on the sheetSo we hustle everyday of the weekThat's why we fuck up all the paper we seeWe hit the clubs, fuckin ladies for freeGetting drunk, off and hazin' the VAnd every couple days we get sweepedAround the clock we bumpin' and clickin'You gotta watch cause when they come they be blitzin'[Chorus: Jim Jones]Now this is for my homies and my thugsOne million in the truck, and the chrome full of sluts (Fully Automatic!)You fuckin phonies you'll get plugged (Boom!..Bang!)I'm a ghetto nigga for lifeThe streets is in my blood (DIPSET!)Now this is for my homies and my thugsOne million in the truck, and the chrome full of sluts (Fully Automatic!)You fuckin phonies you'll get plugged (Boom!..Bang!)I'm a ghetto nigga for lifeThe streets is in my blood (BYRDGANG!)[Verse 2: Fatal Hussein]Ya niggaz dyin', while you other niggaz is hidin'Might be strapped, but you runnin' and ain't ridin'So I'm slidin' to the place down the hillWhere the homies is murda and when its poppin' down to killOn the realThe only way a motherfucker try to surviveIs knowin' that he 'bout to die, and rideI told Face he was the realest in the gameAnd he smiled and told me 'Pac was the realest that they cameIn the jungle, I walk like I'm the king of the beastsSo when you duck huntin', keep movin' cause I'm swingin' the heatI might go out of town, move fakin' is none of thatAnd never leave up out the hood, the way I can't come backFuck thatHussein in the street game frameLife is a struggle, so with the heat take aimI'm ghetto, don't ever think I'm him its not meCuz I love this motherfucker like pills in a hot tea[Chorus][Verse 3: 40 Cal]Why ya act like I'm new to this?Mack to the uzi clipWhen it comes to beef, we all packed like Luis RichBattlin' is ludacris, half of ya uterusMatter fact, Jimmy, pass me the "Kufi List"What you think niggaz got goons for?The mass menace at ya door like a costume ball (hello)My flow is like when you throw a 'Pac tune onThe only time you get tax is when you cop new 'gords, dogI make it happen with no sarcasmSo it ain't the station wagon, when you see me dodge magnums (get it?)If I don't hit you when the clip fillsLike the show off the blind date, ya know the fifth willBreak niggaz like big bills, when it peelsSit still, shit's real, listen you a kid's mealAnd I eat those, reload, heat blownKeep those kilos, cause we go beast mode[Chorus]