Got the Nerve

[IMF Blue Steele] Aiyo, it seems like, New York forgot about Jay No, this song is not about Jay It's about the way, the game is spoiled It's a wrap like the game is foil My pain is for you, I miss you Grandpop Yeah, nigga, loyal, I miss you BIG, Pac How many deaths I got to watch? When I was young, my first death was Scott LaRock And I was like, eleven or twelve Whoever killed him, I hope that nigga dead or in jail I know it's not a person that can't pass away But they ain't have to do that to Jam Master Jay And it's a damn shame, how y'all can't explain How Pac got murdered, or BIG got killed It's a dirty game, I guess I gotta live with y'all filth But I'm stuck in this ship that y'all built And when I first met hip hop, everything was dope or hype And it was dope to write, it wasn't dope to bite And rap was war, ropes with ice And you was fresh, in the fresh pair of them Flights Old tonics, and the Caddy low Bumping Stetsasonic and Daddy-O But look where you had me go Way back there, I wish it stayd back there [Chorus 2X: Smokey] Lo and behold they still got the gold And a bucket of dimes and they all still rhyme A bunch of lies, and they got the nerve to sell it to you, you... [IMF Blue Steele] Yo, it seem like New York forgot about Biggie No, this song is not about Biggie It's about the city, and how I really Realize, these rap niggas high saddity Y'all got too pretty, the block like "Who is he? He ain't the same nigga from before Before he got that Benz, before he went on tour He used to be right out here, in front of the stores Now he acting different since he won 'em awards So the hood don't want him no more" Cuz he changed up, but he still trying to claim us Thinking we gon' love him cuz he famous Shit, shit, you getting money from them shows We getting money from these O's, looking bummy in our clothes And tell me it's a hold cuz it's never full Keep the clips in our berettas full And uh, if you turn around and look Then you could simply see, before that Bentley V Before that MVP, you was probably on the bench with me Contemplenting on that Bentley V And every night I stand up, pulling my pants up On the corner with an L, getting closer to cancer Hoping the answers'll come to me on the script Car flipped, with the semi on my hip Son, my city is the shit [Chorus 2X] [Hook: Smokey] All this shining, all this grinding All this lying, and they got the nerve to sell it to you All this shining, all this grinding All y'all lying, and y'all got the nerve to sell it to who? [Chorus 2X]