The Documentary

[Intro] [Verse 1] What happened in hip hop that got Pac and Big shot The thicks blocks, now every rapper claim he let his clip pop But even myself tote a gun, and know to run than get shot I've been there before now I'm fucking with Doc (Dr. Dre: Gotta do the Calvin Broadus numbers) If not I pitch rocks, anticipatin' my incarceration Media think I'm fakin' like Mason But when it comes to mace, fuck R. Kelly I don't take it in the face I find out who sprayed it, and I'm putting you under the pavement No Buddhist priest, Catholic, or Baptist pastor can save him I'm far from religious, but I got beliefs So I put canary yellow diamonds in my Jesus piece I came back from the dead without a part of my chest Laid in a hospital bed on cardiac arrest I waited for 3 years while everybody else dropped Now I understand why Nas did a song with his pops [Hook x2] I'm Ready To Die without a Reasonable Doubt Smoke Chronic and hit it Doggystyle before I go out Until they sign my Death Certificate, All Eyez On Me I'm still at it, Illmatic, and that's The Documentary [Verse 2] If I die my niggas Fuck it, I did a song with Mary Blige, my niggas Got a hook from Faith, no verse from Jay I guess on Westside Story he thought I spit in his face Told Ed Lover & Moni Love I was talking to Ja With that Maybach line, it was payback time Keep fucking with me nigga, I'll put you under me Take your car and trade it in for eight 3 hundred C's If you cross my T, I'll dot your eyes You'll do life in a cemetery, I'll do mine with Shyne Come home sit in the throne with my legs crossed And my Air Forces, middle finger up, fuck the world Cause I'm feeling like Puff when Life After Death hit Mo' money, mo' problems and I lost my best friend I'm the second dopest nigga from Compton you'll ever hear The first nigga only put out albums every 7 years [Interlude: Radio Interview] (You know what speaking of Jay That just makes me roll down Now your song Westside Story) Uh Oh (You got a line that says "I don't do button up shirts Or drive Maybachs" Is that a shot at Jay?) Nah, I was talking about Ja Rule Yeah, so, yeah, I got a lot of respect for Jay You know what I'm saying I never take shots at legends I just, that's just something I don't do [Verse 3] Let me tell you why I do this shit I'm a son of a gun cause moms was a Hoover Crip First day I got signed I had to prove I spit Freestyle with Busta Rhymes (Busta: son, duke is sick) The protege of Doc Dre, I could finally put the shoes on Now that the rumors of Rakim and Cube gone They say truth hurts, sunk like quick sand Don't stop me in traffic and ask about Hittman I gotta restore the feeling that crawled from under the rock After Tha Dogg Pound crushed the buildings I got a family to feed, I'm the middle of 9 children We can talk about a loan after I sell 5 million If I tell you I ain't Game and I don't know Dre You goin' do me like Xzibit and cut half of my face? I take all the credit for putting the west back on the map If you ain't feeling that, guess I'm Guerrilla Black [Hook]