I got a call from my oldest bucket
He know I pitch 'that' religious, He had a six pack of Guinness
The old fiend told me chill
Sit back and listen
But I'm tryna get back to business
I heard em out anyway
He rarely talk but when he waved some of the shit sound like Hemingway
He was known in his day as a lady slayer
But the 80s had him lean like a crazy prayer
Now a days he straight, Only 8 ball escapes
Some beers he don't pace halls for H
Used to be injections, track marks turned infectious, he just happy to reflect it
He told me young man
I was you with a dumb plan
As he cracked a beer wit one hand
Did a bump out the crevice where his thumb jam, It sound like this
That's the drip, lift his wrist passed his nose, fast to sip
As he smiling in his bliss
Y'all claiming this ya corner but the corner ain't yours
Those Chinese mothafuckas own all the stores
See that pizza shop, it's indians rolling the dough
But y'all die in vein leaving kids wit nothing to grow
Word
What's ya reputation
Could you sell it
When it grows they get jealous, Don't earn you shit
Not even couple points on ya credit
Most these shootings come from fear and you fed it
Plus you wanted 'em scared
I know ya dad he just want you prepared
But you not going nowhere
I heard about ya shooting
That's a sign you should hear
He did a line again and said
Nigga pass me a beer
I'm BOOKEY, ask anybody said they knew me
Bookey owned the 80s, Bookey had the loose leaf
Had the cherry red M3 wit the blue seats
Had perscripts like MD's and a few freaks
Did the Dew, added soda, that was the new treat
My name rang all the way up, in a few streets
I had to get it, had a fetish for it
I walked like you, cocky always heading forward
A nigga tried to rob me? I loved it, had to lead him for it
Then I headed foreign, until it was hella boring
When I came back, was hard headed for it
I went harder, didn't barter, had my legend soaring