[Into]
Hip Hop Weekly man
Ya'll know what it is
Forty-seven, AK-47
C.O.B., Circle of Bosses
Crooked I, let's do this
What it do? Yeah
Ya'll know what it is man
I didn't want to do it but I had to do it
This shit knocking
Shouts out to my dude Kobe, you killed the hook my n***a
Shots to the dude cheddar, get better
Come on man
Let's get 'em
This what we do n***a, c'mon

[Verse 1]
I'm a militant young boss, homey I am rebel
'Cause whoever wrote the history books are lying devils
That's why I'm keeping rocky ice in a giant bezel
To show 'em in these present times we on a higher level
My neck is so chunky, robbers thought I was a jeweler
You reach for the ice, say good bye to your medulla
And hi to a tumor, my spirit's been here before in the body of a ruler
I'm Haile Selassie Junior
Soon you'll understand my mystery language
Until then, picture me strapped, shit could be dangerous
N***as be anxious to vanquish enemies with six in the chamber
Triggers click and you instantly famous
Click click, won't forget what your name is
My pistols are brainless man get a swift kick in your anus
Street living, we got a blind date with bars
We meet prison, my n***as please listen
The system want to know why I'm out on that creep mission
'Cause they don't give the slums enough crumbs to feed pigeons
So we resort to thiefism
Break bread with criminals, killers I eat with 'em
The positive vibrations in the ether project a unique rhythm
So to keep up with the beat, my n***a I seek wisdom
In an Armani suit how can I truly be bossin'
When one of my only homies rocked his first suit in a coffin
His future is lost and
I talked to the OGs, hope they tutor me often
Dude, I'm truly lost and engulfed in the hood
Hell's flames getting nearer
The way I shot at n***as it's hard for me to look in the mirror
In fear of what I'm becoming, but it's clearer than crystal
I and my pistol, we're a team, I wish it was dream
My cousin told me shoot a n***a when I was sixteen
Still hear him scream
Wonder what he thinking when he see me on the screen
Every show I'm rocking, yeah I'm watching for his beam
Still I tilt my brim and I swim with the gators
Even when the place is filled to the rim with you haters
Didn't want to reach for them nine double Ms but you made us
And if I didn't you wimps would've slayed us
Night after night, we might have to fight
Over shit that's worthless in your life after life
So I have to write with insight soon as I grab the mic
I might point your life's plight at the light
And that's why this rapper's a real boss
From the School of Hard Knocks, I feel I got my masters in real talk
And that's why you rappers are still soft
Feel on the cap of your cranium, now imagine it peeled off
It might sound a little unconventional
Killing n***as 'cause their material's one dimensional
Got a lot of dead homies man and I feel that their spirit's near me
So I'm spittin' it for them 'cause I know they can really hear me
They'll haunt me forever if I don't sever the track
Even my posthumous homies know I'm better than that
I'ma get you off repetitive rap, I know they said it was crack
It's Hip Hop Weekly, your medicine's back
And I'm back repping Long Beach and C.O.B
'Til I'm with the dead people I see
And I fade to black
[Outro]
Yeah, Hip Hop Weekly man
Shouts out to everybody supporting the series
It's been a good one ya know
I'm dedicating this one to all my dead homies, too many to name
Boss in peace
Yeah, to my Uncle Leroy, boss in peace
To my Aunt Charlene, boss in peace
This is real life for me man
You fake ass gangstas, ya'll ain't shit
This Eastside Longbeach, 562 'til the whole world through
C.O. motherfuckin' B-O-S-S, boss of the whole West n***a
Fuckers