[Kobe]. Uh. Uh huh. You know what this is. I'ma let 'em run around one more time. I drop sumpin' on y'all. It's like... it's like. What's it like?. My microphones and glock nines. Black? I'm dipped in that. The beats my mash jam you for the platinum you have. Run it the illest watch me become it. I'm here and took it bowling like straight to the wig. Speak truth like kids tell you what you don't know. Kobe? Yeah he's real with the flow. Kick in the do' wavin' the flow-flow. All you heard was stop can't take the hits no more. Ha didn't know I had your block on SWAT?. I'm CIA y'all nuttin' but beat cops. I rock like my ma's mean name is cocaine. Place you on my A-fiend list and pay you 'cane. Think you can handle? Not get stripped when you rock?. Think again you find you lost your mind and judgement. My confidence springs from watching y'all fall. Aw forced to hustle rap in charge. I'ma hop in your brain tell you whatchu thinkin'. Yes I am speakin' but I ain't writin'. So cold I put the ice in nicest. You too broke to pay attention. My style is priceless. [Kobe] [Nas]. If you say murder that means I'm a Thug Poet. If I say my mind kills that means I'm a Thug Poet. If I say that I'm a flock that means I'm a Thug Poet. And when I lay it down it makes me a Thug Poet. [Broady Boy]. Thank the dudes for the gangs and tanks of booze. Shanks and twos it's the gangstas Langston Hughes. My poems' about broken homes and Jesus peaces. Dope is the Popes in Rome. Poetical field thug overtone it's like what yo?. Bring it home we both go gone. Pre-cord thought flow in the sober zone. My life style chromosomes frost hope to clone. The crack lust black dust and the gat bust. The claps the lackluster memoirs of the black hustler. Condos Beemers bomb hoes coke bags toe tags John Does. Fiends skits them into the plane of day as plain as day. It's hard to reach to smell God anyway. Money think backdrop payin' gray?. Man rubber-gripped on that rainy day. Peep the way I came to play. One aim at the game reign and stay. Every stain is straight from objective insane. 'Ey just don't know I'm two ticks from blowing a hole through music. But I'm more than pimp-whoring him for the street wise. You met the ren. Cuz I open 'neath in the weed hydrogen. Jam my eyes to skin guide some of our wisest men. Until the skies of sin. I pray for the day we see you rise again. Uh. [Nas] [Broady]. Thug Poet Street analyst is this the. Thug Poet Hustlers bang out to. Thug Poet Flows for your block Hip-Hop. Thug Poet. Thug Poet. [50 Cent]. Aiyyo everybody know 50 ain't know how to act. I run up on cats with gats and aluminum bats. Y'all got fat while we starved it's my turn. Shit I done felt how a slug burned I still won't learn. Niggas in the 'hood a-tell ya "50 crazy". I had your moms screamin' "They done shot my baby". Son I yap your shine I clap the nine I slap you. I'm that one of them niggas you wanna fuck with. I spit the shit that make ya keep listenin'. Keep my wrists glistenin'. I left niggas alone and they still think I'm dissin' 'em. I'm on some new shit S-Type baby blue shit. Niggas talk behind my back but don't do shit. I ain't looking for love duke I'm looking for respect. I leave you with options like die or hit the deck. I'm a thug poet you know what I came for the dough. Clap-clap y'all niggas get the fuck on the floor floor. [Nas] (Echoes to fade). Thug Poet