Comin' Up

A hot day in August, 1991

Me and MJ walkin', talkin' in the hot sun

OTS was home then, listen to the lyrics

Me and MJ made the shit

101 played the shit

Sellin' tapes straight from my hand to your hand

Pump didn't give us none

So we had to take them

Make him respect a nigga, check the nigga constantly

Busta, where my cheese at?

Before I have to get the gat

Every record store and stereo supply shop

Sellin' me, but I'm not collectin' a salary

What else to do except say fuck this whole rap shit

Find a hustle in the streets and try to flip shit

All in the next nigga hood slangin' packs on the bus

People askin' me, "Mane, don't you rap?"

No shame, had to get to A to B to make the C-H-Double-E-S-E

Comin' up

1992, stackin' dues, not royalties

Cause we was told they was used for utilities

Not one single dime, not one check

And we was here from the whole business aspect

A lot of fame came with some decent record sales

But at the same time, we was catchin' plenty hell

Cause we could tell that the record deal was goin' sour

But over everything we did, he had full power

With no money in my hands, only fans

Stayin' true, takin' stance helped me to pursue my fans

Pen and paper

I kept keepin'

Reefer chiefin'

Beepers wasn't beepin'

Money we was needin'

Me and 'Ball constantly havin' arguments with our manager

Tryin' to damage a

Good career, fool, is amateur

Damn it's a, cryin' shame

To take too much

8Ball & MJG broke free

For the come up

9:30 in the morning, me and MJ on the phone

8 o'clock the same day, we was outta here and gone

T-Money and JB set the tickets up, we picked 'em up

Hit the studio, ready to make the megabucks

Seein' kis and Gs, and hangin' with the hustlers

Real niggas with Glocks, eliminatin' bustas

In the process, we made comin' out hard

That's when my real nigga J went behind bars

Every day flyin' state to state, the shit was great

Eatin' steak and lobster like motherfuckin' mobsters

Mettin' women that I'll probably never meet again

Smilin' faces, on the outside, looking' in

I'm on the outside, lookin' in

I coulda been another one take

Mystery that went with history, just like a trend

Then, I would lose all hope, if I don't shout

But it's too many players in my motherfuckin' court

Prepare to blow the fuck outta the rap game

Cause we ain't, droppin' vocals soundin' like the next mane

Watchin' out for new friends, hangin' out with true friends

Splurgin' with some loose ends, ridin' in a new Benz

1995, pure dope, uncut, super nuts

Much hard from the start, from the hips, out the gut

Much skills, I'ma flex on the next tape

Showin' off, ain't no way in hell I'ma fail

While I'm comin' up