Anticipation lyrics

[Chorus]
R.I.P. to my n*ggas that's dead and gone
Standin here blowed I dedicate this song
R.I.P. to my n*ggas that's dead and gone
Standin here blowed I dedicate this song
To my n*ggas in the grave and my n*ggas in the pen
Much love for you fools, see you when I get in
To my n*ggas in the grave and my n*ggas in the pen
Much love for you fools, see you when I get in

Come follow me now, and let me kick that old school flow
All my Gs who got popped or else dropped by a .44
Tryna make ends, roll in Benz and stay tight
Get high with the crew, di*k one or two down tonight
And stay true to the game, make yo cash the dash
But 5-0s and jackers all over yo ass
So n*ggas stay woke, don't ever sleep when you creep
Cuz nowadays they pack AKs and sh*t's gettin deep
Bustin bustin biggedy bustas keep yo pockets on fat
And to my homies who rest, every night I look back
And say "Damn, now why did my n*ggas have to die?"
To ease the pain I don't cry, I fire that potent fry
And reminisce my life, I mean the whole 20 years
Cuz over the days, crime has paid for many of my peers
Some died from car wrecks, and Tecs to the necks
I know my mother anticipate - now will her son be next?
[Chorus]

Funky funerals, sixty cars with lights and one cop
Rollin slow behind a hearse block to block
And uh, I couldn't make it, I was feelin worse
To show my love for cuz, I pour some sip to the curse
We had tight times, we even had lose times
Sharin a brew, smokin a few, flashin up the deuce sign
Rollin thick as a b*tch, with my whole f*ckin click
Yep, cut for one another, down to take a n*gga's sh*t
Crankin cars, nothing barred, the sh*t stayed tight
Mobbin forty ounce, slobbin nearly every night
Much goes to those, I'm givin it up, I mean my props
From Charlie Brown to Shawn Miles and to my steppops
I got nothing for love and it's gettin strong
I keep my head up even when the sh*t's goin wrong
And ain't no use to me puttin out my fry
Sometimes I anticipate - now will I be the next to die?

[Chorus]

And now it's 93, and sh*t's still illegal
So I gave in my Tec for a .44 Desert Eagle
Still got memories of my homies in the past
So I look high and ask the Lord if I last
And if not, when I drop six feet deep
Put a forty in my lap and in my mouth a swisher sweet
And let the dead rest, and then close my eyes
And if my n*ggas ain't there, then I just might rise
And bust a couple of caps the spirits from hell
See, a n*gga might be dead but I got dope to sell
So n*ggas don't forget for y'all to bring the fry
Cuz everyone'll cry and say "Damn - this n*gga had to die"