POINT THE FINGA
"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 mother ers 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 mother ers 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
mother er
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 mother ers 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 mother ers kill me Pick it up
pick it up
give it up Best to duck or get ed for your bucks Scream one two three
peace to the real G s Still me
til these mother ers 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 mother ers kill me I guess nobody loves a rap singer That s why these mother ers..
(hahaha!) point the finga Chorus Chorus Chorus 3/4
"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 mother ers 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 mother ers 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
mother er
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 mother ers 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 mother ers kill me Pick it up
pick it up
give it up Best to duck or get ed for your bucks Scream one two three
peace to the real G s Still me
til these mother ers 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 mother ers kill me I guess nobody loves a rap singer That s why these mother ers..
(hahaha!) point the finga Chorus Chorus Chorus 3/4
