My favourite conspiracy theory for years has been that in the 90's when gangster rap was huge and white middle class kids all over America were in to it, the government gave Geffen Records a butt load of cash to pump into Nirvana to take the musical emphasis of the time off Ganster rap.
Im not sure where i first heard this and i cant find any other references to it anywhere but in my head it kinda makes sense.
Today while fruitlessly looking for some info on it i came across another crazy theory.
That Kurt is in fact NOT dead, he faked it! In fact Kurt Cobain has been writting and releasing records all along. Kurt Cobain is Rivers Cumo!
No matter how many new records i buy or new bands im discovering, right now i just keep on coming back to this stuff. Total timeless classic hip hop. It totally cant be beaten.
Intro:
Yeah. motherfuckers better know... huh, huh. lock your windows, Close your doors. biggie smalls, huh...yeah.
Verse one:
My man inf left a tec and a nine at my crib Turned himself in, he had to do a bid A one-to-three, he be home the end of 93 Im ready to get this paper, g, you with me?
Motherfucking right, my pockets looking kind of tight And Im stressed, yo biggie let me get the vest
No need for that, just grab the fucking gat The first pocket thats fat the tec is to his back Word is bond, Im a smoke him yo dont fake no moves (what? ) Treat it like boxing: stick and move, stick and move
Nigga, you aint got to explain shit Ive been robbin motherfuckers since the slave ships With the same clip and the same four-five Two point-blank, a motherfuckers sure to die Thats my word, nigga even try to bogart Have his mother singing its so hard...
Yes, love love youre fucking attitude Because the nigga play pussy thats the nigga thats getting screwed And bruised up from the pistol whipping Webs on the neck from the necklace stripping Then Im dipping up the block and Im robbing bitches too Up the herring bones and bamboos I wouldnt give fuck if youre pregnant Give me the baby rings and a #1 mom pendant
Im slamming niggaz like shaquille, shit is real When its time to eat a meal I rob and steal cos mom duke aint giving me shit So for the bread and butter I leave niggaz in the gutter Huh, word to mother, Im dangerous Crazier than a bag of fucking angel dust When I bust my gat motherfuckers take dirt naps Im all that and a dime sack, where the paper at?
Verse two:
Big up, big up, its a stick up, stick up And Im shooting niggaz quick if you hiccup Dont let me fill my clip up in your back and head piece The opposite of peace sending mom duke a wreath Youre talking to the robbery expert Stepping to your wake with your blood on my shirt Dont be a jerk and get smoked over being resistant cos when I lick shots the shits is persistent
Huh, goodness gracious the papers Where the cash at? where the stash at? Nigga, pass that before you get your grave dug From the main thug, .357 slug And my nigga biggie got an itchy one grip
One in the chamber, 32 in the clip Motherfuckers better strip, yeah nigga peel Before you find out how blue steel feel
From the beretta, putting all the holes in your sweater The money getter motherfuckers dont have better Rolex watches and colourful swatches Im digging in pockets, motherfuckers cant stop it
Man, niggaz come through Im taking high school rings too Bitches get stripped down for they earrings and bangles And when I rock her and drop her Im taking her door knockers And if shes resistant baka! baka! baka!
So go get your man bitch he can get robbed too
Tell him biggie took it, what the fuck he gonna do?
I hope apologetic or Im a have to set it And if I set it the cocksucker wont forget it
Verse three:
Man, listen all this walking is hurting my feet But money looks sweet (where at? ) in the isuzu jeep
Man, I throw him in the beem, you grab the fucking c.r.e.a.m And if he start to scream bam! bam!, have a nice dream Hold up, he got a fucking bitch in the car Fur coats and diamonds, she thinks she a superstar
Ooh biggie, let me jack her, I kick her in the back Hit her with the gat...
Yo chill, shorty, let me do that... Just get the fucking car keys and cruise up the block The bitch act shocked, gettin shot on the spot (oh shit! the cops!) be cool, fool They aint gonna roll up, all they want is fucking doughnuts (so why the fuck he keep lookin? ) I guess to get his life tooken I just came home, aint trying to see central booking Oh shit, now he lookin in my face You better haul ass cos I aint with no fucking chase So lace up your boots, cos Im about to shoot A true motherfucker going out for the loot
