Letter - Plies

Aye bae I need you to type this letter real quick

It’s tuesday 4:24 a.

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I got a few things I wanna go over and discuss

I wanna send a copy to the industry

Let these niggas know how I really feel

I hope there’s enough ink in this motherfucker

Make sure I got enough v.s.o.p

Make sure I got enough reefer

Cause I’m a be here a minute, it’s gonna be a long night

Think I’m in the wrong place

Thought I was in the music business

Lotta you niggas doin music, but ain’t nobody doin business

Everybody want favors, Who you niggas fuckin kiddin?

My brother went to prison nigga

Ain’t none of you niggas fuckin visit

A nigga want me on his album take care of fuckin business

Paper work, artist splits that’s how you know the business finished

Labels got you niggas fooled

Got you thinkin it’s y’all pennies

A lotta you niggas is music whores Cause y’all niggas don’t get it

I’ont understand you niggas though

Cause all I hang around is bitches

Soon as you make a bitch mad, first thing she do is twist it

A bitch don’t get what she want Second thing she do is flip it

Fuck niggas tell lies

Real niggas pay attention

Two niggas beefin means: One hot, one isn’t

No awards, filthy rich

Guess what?

ain’t trippin

Ol g’s og

Cause them niggas

Control their feelings

Killers kill and killers don’t tell you niggas that they killin

A nigga that tell the story first

The nigga don’t pay no fuckin attention

Niggas lie for one reason: To boost they motherfuckin image

You hear a nigga droppin names

The project comin out in a minute

The only name’s you niggas say

The one that the streets feelin

You want street cred?

You got to go in the streets

And go an get it

And niggas that talk the most shit

The main niggas that ain’t authentic

The rar rar nigga

He the same nigga in court snitchin

The game real simple homey

It’s all talk and no killin

A bunch of niggas that sit around

And try to come up with gimmicks

If you was real homey

You’ll know what’s real

And what isn’t

Ain’t never rapped about

A nigga in prison

That I ain’t went and fuckin vist

3 albums and ain’t drop

One name still with it

Told you niggas from day one

«pussy nigga, I ain’t friendly»

Real niggas can’t be emulated

And y’all try to fuckin bill it

I keep my eyes on you niggas

And fuck with you

From a distance

My principles is non-negotiable

Point, blank, period!

It’s kinda hot in this motherfucker

But we got the a/c on

Baby you actin like your fingers hurt

Alright I got that little shit out the way

I got some more shit for you to type

Ready…

Last niggas got shot

Sued me for ten mill

Some more niggas playin gangster

I found out that wasn’t real

Them yoppers started goin off

Everybody fuckin squeal

Niggas go from playin gangster

To tellin who the shooter is

I don’t know a nigga that rob

That bring is camera

To the crime scene

Me somewhere without a couple shooters

You fuckin kiddin me?

Niggas win oscars off of actin

And I see

A nigga try anything

To trick you off

These fuckin streets

A nigga try it all

Just to sit down

In your fuckin seat

Bein hot?

I know about it

I been that since '03

Goon impersonators

Is all you fuck niggas’ll ever be

You either one of two things:

You either groupies or the police

Ah man, it’s gettin kind late

But before I go

Type this shit right here

I charge 40,000

I’m really worth 60

This month was kind of slow

Only did a quarter milli

I’m hotter right now

Then any nigga who ever diss me

Know why you mad

Cause I’m hotter than you and your city

Been in the streets

Say ounce goin for 550

My dog just came home

Bought him the 760

«oh plies must be scared

Keep his security with him»

Security ain’t for you niggas

My security for these bitches

A million dollar nigga

In a 30 dollar dickie

Nigga I was totin choppers

When niggas was riding 20's

Niggas was on e&j

Nigga I was drankin remy

Was it a 745?

Fore niggas had hemmys

Benz on 4's dogs

Hummer 26s

I put the 8's on the drop

Got the 2's on the bentley

And niggas claim to hate me

But ain’t got no holes in me

Nigga I sell goon

Nigga just say «how many?

«Ain't on a hundred songs

Pussy cause I ain’t friendly

Bills: I got none

Money: I got plenty

Gutter, and never left

Nigga is still in me

Say I’m her baby daddy

Well that’s that bitch opinion

A man, I’m finna let you go on

Ahead and go home dog

I don’t think you like to work

As late as I like to work

But I’m a finish this another time homey