Lyrics:

You could get the finger Come and get some!! The middle. Aaaww yeah! They love to point the finger. Boom!Boom!Boom! on your black ass, bitch. -Chorus repeats- I thought I hit rock bottom, Then my album point the finger. 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 niggas need guns too. It`s not to be a racist, but let`s face this. Wouldn`t you if we could trace places. I got lynch spots from the cops. And till this day, the same motha fucka on the beats gettin major pay. But whenI get my techa-techa techs out. So, we prayin for these pigs to knock the blacks out. Ain`t that a bitch. Some officers`ll get rich. Whoopin on thugs and robbin drug dealers for their shit. As far as jealousy, being 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 and they`ll be on ya till a nigga`s a 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 funky ass marks in the park By tryin to earn their stripes in the dark. Just cuz I come here, don`t mean I from here. Peep. Only jealous motha fucka beef. Point the finger. -Chorus repeats- As I run up on a mad man, a nut case with a screw loose. A zoot troupe full of foolies with toolies. Niggas 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. Niggas run quick. Buckshots are the payback for dumb shit. All you niggas on the block