don't need your love

yo havoc

i'm too close to the edge on this one nigga

i ain't gon' jump though

i'ma keep it raw gutter

yo prodigy

you know i need you on this one nigga

i got shit on my chest

i must confess

last night i was the nigga that shot up your projects

now i'm back in the hood

with rocks in the pyrex

tan khakis and them nike airs with the dyed checks

i was forced to live this life

forced to bust my chrome

my pops left me in a foster home

i felt abandoned like quik now that mausberg gone

so i don't hop in the ss without the mossberg homes

i've been rappin for a year and a half

my life is real

put the gun in his mouth

he gon' bite the steel

come to compton

i got stripes for real

before dre

before the ice

before the deal - i was almost killed

like 'pac before the death row deal

i got shot over two pounds of weed

still ain't found them niggaz

but karma come quicker for a nigga on the other side of the gun

that's somethin i gotta teach my son

i don't need your love

no no no no

i don't need your love

need it

i don't want it

i don't need it

i don't need your love

no i don't need your love

i don't need your love

cause

the

game

don't

change

i heard they got bloods in new york now

red rags in uptown harlem now

i need that love

front court at the knicks game

new chick

french name

new car

new house

and sometimes friends change

and you don't need that love

when you g's like us

and your jesus piece is sim-u-lar to biggie's

and your life story is sim-u-lar to 50's

first they hate you

then they love you

then they hate you again

what the fuck do it take for a gangsta to win?

no mics

no +unsigned hype+

nigga *fuck* the source

plus them awards i don't need

and them niggaz breathin the same air as me

actin like they don't bleed

we don't drive the same speed

this a continental t

that's a case of armadale

this a continental suite

so i'ma drown in my own sorrows

live life

fuck tomorrow

nigga cause reality is

i was gassed up

murder inc. roc-a-fella passed up

sat in daddy's house with black rob and lou and asked puff

now the game set in stone

the frank muniz set in stones

dre cut me a check

i'm gone

tryin to be the king of the streets

niggaz'll wet your throne

but i got nieces to feed

two coasts to please

so i roam through the city like the ghost of e

gotta put compton back where it's 'sposed to be

nuttin between all my niggaz that's close to me

in the streets with two fellas packin toast for me

i'm 'posed to be

got all the critics watchin my pivot

on my block in the coupe readin kites from prison

i got niggaz doin life in prison

all my fallen soldiers is one of the reasons we pour out liquor

so this song is for ms. wallace

afeni shakur

and all the mothers of dead sons that went out in the war