My Hoe - Statik Selektah, Blu, Evidence

Oh yea, rose and parades, my battle, my scar G rosa

Ice feel, how that feel?

You said it was about alien impulses all over yo poster

We postal phone ya, tell the show close the show

It’s over it’s like an old soldier with no model for tomorrow

I be thinking bout upholding my bottle

Plottin on my Abe Lincoln, loadin hollows with my hands on the bottle

Throw a pistol like I’m middle eastern

Aye ink pins need revival, yo I’m not religious

The palm is which I put a song up in and gave me when he thought I pull em

different

Mama’s crib is safe, papa’s crib safe

All my brothers and sisters know the color of my nickel plate

Still the haters wanna aks me how I deal with hate

Told em you should never look a pistol in the face

You just go the extra mile just to make sure that you’re livin it straight

You tell Barack I need a crib and estates

And cake niggas celebrate with you like an O chase

She stay hit yo crib just to get yo face up out my face

Fake nigga, how you picture tomorrow?

With the wrong frame of mind

How you picture love if you are blind?

And the crowd trippin

You see I never called you my bitch or even my boo

There’s so much in the name, it’s so much more in you

My… make you my…

Shit!

It’s crap day to day but I’m good enough on a bad day

Runnin round my town without a sad face

Evidence make dough, moneys fat bills

Come realities back

No strikes back, no

Strike that

I snap til I’m done with my picks til it’s sick

A pic’s on em perfect as the person is fit

I lock a shot then I shoot to gift

I’m focusin, in dark rooms I develop the prince

So place your bets on he with 10th game fav

Flow is peace, the beam is stack, the light on the street is his

I’m the most west side of any west sider rider

Ridin out by the beach until the day is complete

I won’t stop, no can over the prop flow

I was snot nose kid, I had the potholes

In my lawn, I was bomic from dust

Then I grew the fuck up like I still dodge gestapos

You see I never called you my bitch or even my boo

There’s so much in the name, it’s so much more in you

My… make you my…

Shit!

Glass of champagne on a rosy carpet

The flow is sparked there like light to darkness illuminating authors

Catch the eye, this the point no one’s up

40 days and 40 nights, a roasted pork

Stars shinin the brightest,

Rhythm unite us, bring us closer to the roads chose

Wise as my nigga pimp, bow to the signs of blim

Readin the world yours, auderves etcetera

Treat her like a lady til yo cheddar up

Credible measures of competitive

It’s laughable, I never was one

To see your efforts standing next to us

Had a few occasions on my exodus,

When rappers start the record

Was the type to be stunted by nay sayers and hecklers

Heck of a rappers, both the clowns inspect the deck I touch

Crimes with the internet, probly there’s an introspect

Crown me king to the death, karma bring bullet deaths

Then he got with me with the Henny breath

You see I never called you my bitch or even my boo

There’s so much in the name, it’s so much more in you

My… make you my…

Shit!