You could get the finger

Come and get some!!

The middle.

Aaaww yeah!

They love to point the finger.

Boom!Boom!Boom! on your black ass, bitch.

-Chorus repeats-



I thought I hit rock bottom,

Then my album point the finger.

I guess nobody loves a real nigga-slash-rap singer.

I thought I'd bring a little truth to the young troops.

I brought proof that the niggas need guns too.

It's not to be a racist, but let's face this.

Wouldn't you if we could trace places.

I got lynch spots from the cops.

And till this day, the same motha fucka on the beats gettin major pay.

But whenI get my techa-techa techs out.

So, we prayin for these pigs to knock the blacks out.

Ain't that a bitch.

Some officers'll get rich.

Whoopin on thugs and robbin drug dealers for their shit.

As far as jealousy, being a celebrity,

No matter who committed the crime, they all yell at me.

And the media is greedier than most.

You could sell em your soul and they'll be on ya till a nigga's a ghost.

And everyday I read the paper, there's another lie.

They show my picture for the crimes of another guy. Now how's that for the life of a big shot.

A dead cop, a law suit, a little kid shot.

I play them funky ass marks in the park

By tryin to earn their stripes in the dark.

Just cuz I come here, don't mean I from here.

Peep.

Only jealous motha fucka beef.

Point the finger.





-Chorus repeats-





As I run up on a mad man, a nut case with a screw loose.

A zoot troupe full of foolies with toolies.

Niggas run to me.

Don't come to me with beef.

Take your jewels and your jeep.

Boom! Boom!, let that ass sleep.

It's gettin hectic.

Niggas run quick.-a