Take Off, Pt. 2 - Plies

Ay, don’t you get it fucked up, nigga

This ain’t the first one, nigga

This that «Take Off», part two, motherfucker

A street anthem, nigga

Y’all niggas better see about this young nigga, dog

The streets told me y’all can’t fuck with me, dog

I’m not no lyrical nigga, dog

I done tell you what’s going with me, nigga

I’m still here, nigga, seven indictments later

I don’t owe a nigga shit, nigga ain’t never gave me a favor

Done ran through my share of hoes and seen my share of paper

My brothers told me from prison it was gonna get greater later

That 745, nigga, I bought it for you haters

So many dead homies, can’t count them on my fingers

So many of my niggas in Feds, it’ll take too long to name them

If you a fuck nigga, you some kids and man, I don’t claim you

Fuck what it look like, nigga, I’m a real nigga from all angles

You one of these fuck niggas who don’t like Plies?

Well, I don’t blame you

But if I was broke, pussy nigga, you will love me ainna

I work for a millionaire, managed by a killer

They say that apple fall too far away from the tree, nigga

I’m a hundred percent real nigga, mean it don’t get no realer

I don’t give a fuck, I could care less 'bout being the best rapper

The most respected by the streets, nigga, is what I’m after

Ain’t been to the motherfucking studio in five months

Last time Slip-n-Slide seen me, I was in my dump

Next time they see me, I park my 745 in the front

I could drop a motherfucking classic whenever I want, nigga

I don’t really do this shit, homie

I fucks with this rap shit every now and then, homie

The streets just told me I was that motherfucking nigga