I wrote a letter called “25 Questions on my dresser”, remember that? Well, awhile back, Valluco, asked his own 25 Questions, and I’ve been meaning to get to them. Here we go:
1.) Is your third wife born yet?
*No, when I’m eighty I’ll be marrying some fine bitch in her twenties.
2.) Did Lobo Get a raise
*No, because he put onions on my hamburger.
3.) Are you still married to the streets?
*The bitch won’t divorce me.
4.) Are you still stronger than the law?
*Yes, I’m the one who ordered them to put me in prison.
5.) Topac or Biggie?
*Both, and Fat Pat.
6.) Is your mom still saving cans?
*No, but my dad is.
7.) Did you throw away your gats?
*Only the dirty ones.
8.) Are you a bird or a plane?
*Depends what kind of weed I’m smoking.
9.) Who had you running through the ghetto?
*Actually, that was Filero on the hook of “Children of the Ghetto.”
10.) Who’s over there?
*It’s hard to tell
11.) Does anything still go on your block?
*So I’m told.
12.) Vogues are 24s?
*Vogues are tires, 24s are rims, but the teacher said, “There’s NO such thing as a dumb question!”
13.) How did you get them cranium or chest plate?
*Not guilty, Your Honor.
14.) Who are you currently married to; Mary Jane, the streets or Gina?
*All three, I’m a Mormon.
15.) How sweet was your revenge?
*It gave me two cavities.
16.) What you go to the valley for?
*Libras, and I’m not talking zodiac signs.
17.) Did you find your charger?
*I think Lobo stoled it.
18.) Did you win the Cannibus Cup?
*No, but I buy my shit from the guy who did.
19.) Where are you from; City of Dank, South Park, Reveille Park, Houston, Houstone or Hillwood?
*All those are either in H-Town, or are H-town. o, the answer would be (drumroll please) “H-Town!”
20.) I heard you were a baker. What kind of cookies and cakes do you make?
*White cookies, and white cakes.
21.) Do you still remain malicious?
*Only when I miss my lunch.
22.) Do you have a 4th wish?
*I never got my third.
23.) Are you the son of a gun or the son of Norma?
*It takes both to have a kid, bro.
24.) Did you find the blunt? I got one in case you’re still looking.
*I’ll take yours. Obviously, you’re on some good shit.
25.) Is 13 your number from the right team? if not. How long was 13 your number from the right team?
*I’ll answer this one seriously: When I recorded my first album, in the early 90’s, I was naive when it came to gangs. My homeboy’s little brother answered a question that I had. I asked him, “Why do people spray-paint ‘13’? What does that mean?”
At this time, gangs were just beginning to infiltrate Houston. In the 80’s, everyone was representing their hoods and clicks as breakdancers. But all that sort of morphed into gangs as breakdancing began to fade. Then all these kids started throwing up gang signs, and killing each other for no fucking reason. But, when I asked my homeboy’s little brother about the “13”, he told me that it represented Mexicans, because the “M” was the thirteenth letter in the alphabet. So, I said, “Oh, that’s pretty cool.” And when I wrote my next song, I put “Thirteen be me number...”
I never knew that there was another number that other Mexicans, who hated the ones who represented 13, existed. In other words I never knew there was a “14”, and that Mexicans were killing each other because 13 was enemies with 14. I found that out about a year later, after the “Hillwood” album had been released. I was, like, “What the fuck did I do?”
Ya see, brother, I would never take part in anything that involves my people killing each other. That’s exactly the opposite of what I want for our people. All these men in prison today, about nine out of every ten, started by joining a gang in their neighborhood. A casket or a cage is the only future for gang members. Not that I’m mad at them, in fact I love them. Everything I do is for you and for them. I just hate the institution of gangs because of all the lives it has destroyed, and will destroy.
Well, that was fun. I’ll go ahead and finish up with a forty. I love you guys.
Another Cold 40
(Dopest On Planet Earth)
Lac pearl white so I brush it with some toothpaste
boys want beef, fine, have a little tube steak
rocks on the right wrist, who hit the light switch
sign pics for dime chicks, all cause the rhyme’s sick
Papermate, feed the kids, pay the rent, leave a tip
step on stage and murda mikes, then I wipe my fingaprints
short like the singer Prince, so I stoled his purple heels
ridin slow, thinkin so, “This is how a turtle feels.”
boys tryna take my throne, but they need to take a break
fuck with me I’ll take-n-break-a-fake-n-make-a-steak-n-shake
maybe that was out of line, momma told me neva kill
I don’t think I eva will, but my Forty-Seven she’ll
crush skulls and vertibraes, get my ass a murda case
still I’d never burn ya face, curse ya ways, or hurt the gays
that was just for clarity, the rarity is there to see
six makes a pair of three and nine makes the sheriff flee
quiet please, I’m tryna teach, science needs my violent speech
dime of weed or five a sweet, combine with heat and fly for me
rhyme is deep, like a lost penny in the driver’s seat
rappin bout the struggle while I’m naked on a private beach
sippin on the finest drinks, squeezing on my hyna’s cheeks
high as peaks, splashin water on some people tryna eat
diamond rings, big as lima beans, I’mma die a king
I am he, livin lion’s dreams, to entirety
try a “G” it’s suicide, it cyanide with carrot juice
trust me, dog, it’s like skydiving with no parachutes
other rappers begging me, “Go back to Mexico!”
very throwed, yes I know, do you have some questions though
“Mr. Coy, telephone! It’s Larry from the Ellen Show.
Somethin bout your webisode.” da one where I’m sexin those
twins up at Benny’s crib? popped a couple sedatives?
cussed out my mom and thought Sheedy was the President?
“Yes Sir, I believe so. What should I tell ‘im, Sir?”
Tell ‘em it was drugs, and that you are just the messenger
usually they’ll kill you first, just to teach me a lesson
Yes, you are important but, come on man, I’m da Meskin!
who the fuck replaces me? Losy make ya soul shake
think I ain’t the D.O.P.E., mayne, must be sniffin toe paint
nigga fill a whole bank, just what’s in my writing pad
haters on my left nut, now y’all made the right one mad.....