The Documentary

[Ver1:]
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.

[Ver2:]
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:]
(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
Don't wear throwbacks
Or drive, ride in Maybachs
Is that a shot at Jay?)
Naah,Iwas 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.

[Ver3:]
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.