“You could get the finger.. the middle!” {*1}

“Come and get some!” {*2}

[2Pac]

Ahh yeah, they love to point the finger

{*1} {*2}

Boom boom boom on your black ass, bitch

{*1} {*2} Niggaz love to point the finga

Boom boom boom on your black ass, bitch

{*1} {*2}

[2Pac]

I thought I hit rock bottom, they ban my album, point the finga

I guess nobody loves a real nigga-slash-rap singer

I thought I’d bring a little truth to the young troops

I brought proof that the niggaz need guns too

It’s not to be a racist, but let’s face this:

wouldn’t you if we could trade places?

I got lynched by some crooked cops, and to this day

them same motherfuckers on the beat gettin major paid

But when I get my check they takin tax out

So, we payin for these pigs to knock the blacks out

Ain’t that a bitch, some officers are gettin rich

Whoopin on thugs and robbin drug dealers for they shit

As far as jealousy, bein a celebrity

No matter who committed the crime, they all yell at me

And the media is greedier than most

You could sell em your soul or they’ll be on ya til a niggaz ghost

And everyday I read the paper there’s another lie

They show my picture for the crimes of another guy

Now how’s that for the life of a big shot

A dead cop, a law suit, a little kid shot

I play them nuttin ass marks in the park

for tryin to earn they stripes in the dark

Just cause I come there, don’t mean I from there, peep:

only jealous motherfuckers beef, and point the finga

Chorus: repeat 4X

Boom boom boom on your black ass, bitch

{*1} {*2}

[2Pac]

As I run up on em madman, a nutcase with a screw loose

A zoot troupe full of foolies with toolies

Niggaz run to me don’t come to me with beef

Take your jewels and your jeep, boom boom! Let that ass sleep

It’s gettin hectic, niggaz run, quick

Buckshots are the payback for dumb shit

All you niggaz on the block tryin to test me

Best wear a vest or get open like, sesame

I’ll run up on you mad deep; while you’re tryin to sleep

I’m steady pumpin bullets in your sheets

Wake up, motherfucker, don’t stutter

Point blank by a nigga from the gutter, yeah!

Gimme mine, gimme mine, gimme, mine

Ban my rhymes, now I’m back to bustin, nines

And bustaz can’t get none, hell no

A quick flurry and he’s buried with a swelled jaw

I came up from the amateurs to pro hits

at 5-0, so you know I take no shit

And everybody wants to kill a bringer

of bad news, so they choose, to point the finga

Chorus

[2Pac]

One two three, peace to the real G’s

Still me, til these motherfuckers kill me

I bring skills and I build, kill at will

Smoke sess til I’m ill, still feel me?

I say one two three, peace to the real G’s

Still me, til these motherfuckers kill me

Pick it up, pick it up, give it up

Best to duck or get fucked for your bucks

Scream one two three, peace to the real G’s

Still me, til these motherfuckers kill me

I can’t give up, it’s a black thang

And I ain’t goin back to the crack game

(You can do it son; be a man and stand up or run)

Bitches, let em point the finga

(You can do it son; be a man and stand up or run)

Snitches, let em point the finga

Yo, one two three, peace to the real G’s

Still me, til these motherfuckers kill me

I guess nobody loves a rap singer

That’s why these motherfuckers.. (hahaha!) point the finga

Chorus

Chorus

Chorus 3/4