A Letter To Mari
My Ghetto Girl,
The situation with Pain selling my verses, and all the drama it’s created with people who are close to me, has saddened me. I’ve been tough with Carolyn, because she should have simply apologized for the wrong she did. Instead, she’s trying to act like she kept it 100 with me. What’s true is that I’ve kept it 100 with her, putting her on every track that needed a female vocalist. So many people asked me why I put her on everything, and I said because she’s family. You said, in a letter to me, “You should not be petty like you were. All the music you all have made together all the work you all done together, you are going to make her out to be the bad person.”
I’m only explaining her betrayal, and I’m still investigating what could be even more betrayal. People have said she solicited everything from SPM beats to verses. Of course I forgive her, just like I forgive Pain. But my people will know, they will be told, they will be a part of my life because they are the ones who feed everything I love. DHR is a transparent company because “fans” stands for F.A.N.S. I’m not making anyone out to be anything to be anything other than what they made themselves out to be. And if someone is denying the truth, I won’t let my people be deceived. And, no, Carolyn and I didn’t make music together. I wrote what I wanted her to sing, I told her how to sing it, and she sung it till I was satisfied with it. I wrote her some dope-ass shit to sing, that’s why the hooks on my projects outshine the hooks on her shit. The verse she rapped on “Dope House Family,” I wrote. The skitt her and Pain do before that verse, I wrote. All the skitts she does when she imitates those accents, I wrote. I’m the Crack Child, my love, and if I wanted to, I could make you a successful artist, or your cousin, or the chick down the street. Truth can sound boastful but I’m not bragging. I’m explaining the power of crack.
Now, look, I told you that my problem is not with Carolyn, it’s with Pain. He’s the one selling my material. But she knew he was selling unauthorized verses cause she told me, “I tried to tell him to stop!” yet she’s singing on some of those same unauthorized verses. As upset as I am with Pain, I also understand that addiction will cause a man to sell his own son’s asthma inhaler. The chick I fucking blew up like a firecracker that took my homeboy’s finger. That kind of betrayal is tough to swallow.
Maybe you think it’s “petty” but it’s far from. And I’m writing you this letter so that you can understand. On your letter you said, “Everything you are always telling me not to do you just did.” No, baby. In fact, I still talk to Carolyn. But she hurt herself because I’m not going to let people do wrong and then get rewarded for it. There must be a price to pay, and I’ll let the fans decide that price. Like I told Carolyn, “I can write you a song next week that’ll blow you up like never before.” That’s the power of crack and only God can take it away.
I’m aware of this beef you’ve got going with Thomas. I told him that his words carry weight because he’s with my sister and if he’s going to comment on my behalf it must be 100 percent player. We have to show our people how to get through life without stooping down to a hater’s level. You’ll stay stuck on that level because the word is full of haters. I don’t know who’s hating on who, or why the hell you guys are talking shit to each other. But it’s no way to live. If you don’t like the dude, cut him out of your life. If he’s a bad person he has two possible futures with me: He changes, or I disassociate myself. It’s that simple.
Well, baby girl, since this is a letter on spmaftermath, I shall be leaving our people with an ice cold forty. I’ll write you more later.
“Will P. Spray”
Another Cold Forty
You can call me John Shotty, I will call you A. Snitch
cause you called the police, it was there on page six
I be wearing K-Swiss, you be wearin gay kicks
“Los, that commercial said that you should never say this!”
Oh, where that strange kid is playing mobile games with
that other kid and said, “That was gay!” then the waitress
told’im that his statement , was hideous and tasteless
and said, “Not in my place!” as if the shit was racist?
you could have a gay sis, ain’t no need to stay pissed
tell her that you love her it don’t matter if she hates dicks
even if she dates chicks, squeezes one of Kate’s tits
far as I’m concerned, she can lick fifty-eight clits
Let me hit the main switch, take you back to dayshift
no more of this late biz, where lesbians go ape shit
love me for my greatness, please excuse my anguish
all the fuckin pain which influences my language
music is my matrix, tell me bout ya favorites
nigga like me hittin homeruns with bass hits
even in the snake pits, kill’em with the same gifts
I would be the realest even if I had some fake lips
bodies in the blankets, hollows in the stainless
what dat boy Chingo say? “Someone please splain dis!”
Welcome to the “H” pimp, where we screw the playlist
boys from another town swearin that my tape skips
hit the club, “Hey, Miss, would you like to make twins?”
I be pullin Trinas, to Sophias, to the Tay Swifts
sippin on the grape sip, trippin on the plane trip
if I don’t sell then it’s back to the cake mix
this where the cain flips, this is why I stay rich
pay fa momma’s tummy tuck, pay fa granny’s face lift
no I’m not in gangs still I’m cool with what you claim it’s
love till you plex, now ya layin in ya brain bits
look behind the gray tint, that’s where Will Spray sit
“What’s ya middle name, Los?” Putiminagravequick
Swangaz on da spacewhip, presidential frame kit
make a jacka feel his own candy-red paint drip
ladies on the stage strip, as I make it rain grip
call me Chubby Checka cause the bottles and the Jane twist
you can be the game’s prince, that ain’t where my name fits
“How is you the king, Los?” How da fuck I ain’t, bitch…….