[Intro]
That's that gangsta shit
Check the original, y'all niggas digital
The pyroclastic flow, this insane
[Verse 1]
Motherfuckers love me
Young-ass niggas, they wanna thug for me
Wish I was the Godfather, sell drugs for me
But all they can do is tap, cuz for me
Look, homie, you can be my cronie
If you figure how to get a check out of Sony
(Oh Lord) Oh Lord, thought I was preaching to the choir
When I'm in this pulpit, I might catch some fire
Glass full of gas, do you got a lighter?
Hand full of ass, why should I retire?
The shit I spit might inspire the messiah
To throw these lives in a lake full of fire
Ain't nothing flier than my fuckin' rims and my tires
And a word to the wise, you better fuckin' recognize
That I been on the block since bitches did the wop
Since Floyd and Damien kept rocks in they socks, nigga
Taught 2Pac how to keep it gangsta
I showed Biggie Smalls how to release his anger
Who came before me? Melle Mel, Ice-T
King T, KRS, and the homie Chuck D
P.E., DMC, nigga, know your history
If Cube ain't top three, then you's a bitch to me
Ice Cube, the name will live in infamy
Ask the young nigga that invented Eazy-E
[Verse 2]
West Coast, bitch, yeah, that's all me
With Too $hort and the D-R-E
We made it too hard, check our family tree
See you try to make a Snapple out of all them bad apples
Nigga, no
Leave you baffled and gaffled
And running through your house like it's a motherfuckin' raffle
I'm a asshole with Tabasco, you the last ho I would ask for
If I had to leave Morehouse and walk into a ho house
The drink that I pour out, the weed that I blow out
It's all for my nigga Big Herc when I show out
Picture this in a frame, get tore out
When I wanna go out, red carpets get rolled out
[Chorus]
There's a lot of yous (A lot), there's only one of me
They are not confused by the wannabe
There's a lot of yous (A lot), there's only one of me
They are not confused by the wannabe
Original, original, I'm the prototype
Original, original, he the copy, right
Original, original, I'm the prototype
Original, original, he the copy, right
[Verse 3]
So what, you from the gutter?
We all had to struggle if you got a Black mother
We all had to scrap with our uncles and our brothers
Bedroom window, no curtains, used covers
Motherfuckers always claim to be the hardest
But these motherfuckers never claim to be the smartest
I'm a artist that'll paint your rigor mortis
You silly rabbit, nigga, here come the tortoise
Fast is smooth and smooth is slow
And that's how you get it twenty years in a row
Advance how you get twenty years in a hole
Pretend that your ass ain't got no soul
Grab that cold-ass white man steel
Cap pills, run like an oil spill
Big drills, found him in the landfill
You got thirty years but you my man still
Fuck them tears, Tony Montana
Caught you in Montana, extradited to Atlanta
This ain't the banana, nigga, this is Alabama
Nail in your coffin when the judge rock the hammer, nigga
[Chorus]
There's a lot of yous (A lot), there's only one of me
They are not confused by the wannabe
There's a lot of yous (A lot), there's only one of me
They are not confused by the wannabe
Original, original, I'm the prototype
Original, original, he the copy, right
Original, original, I'm the prototype
Original, original, he the copy, right
[Outro]
That's that gangsta shit