The Diplomats - I Love You lyrics

rate me

People say my theories is backwards

I tell them, sincerly, it's clearly, you hearing me backwrds

I tell 'em I'm great, but still I need practice

I tell them to wait, go and comeback quick, they don't understand me

It's not logic, I'm not logic, I got problems

I worship the late prophet, the great Muhammad Ali

For the words that he spoke, that stung like a bee

Soaked into me, you niggaz will see but

I'm still insane, I'm Rodman, dealing my brain

I'm grinding sharing my pain, fuck, where is the fame

Niggaz, they still rhyming, still in the game

They still dealing the cane, still cock shit in your brain, homie

I still smell the rotten people that lay

There in ground zero, forgotten, left in for days

Probably left there to stay, left in decay

Broken pieces of towers, left in their graves

I pray they be saved, until then, that's just a suggestion I made

Follow me homie, listen, I subjected my ways nigga

Weapons that spray, at your fucking face nigga

It's Santana the great, in the place niggaz, stay away nigga

Cause I'm headed straight to the top, niggaz

Diplomat Taliban slash ROC nigga

Oh yeah, I do this for my block niggaz

D train, Al Gator, pop niggaz

Young drugs, young twins, Shiest bug

Niggaz I love, my thugs

Now, come fuck with your boy

Jones, Killa, Freakay, come fuck with your boy, WHOA

It's Santana again nigga, no bandanas just him nigga

In the flesh, like

I seen it time, business and friendship

Friendships ended, business attended, clips get extended

Lawyers get called, accountants get faxed

That was my man, well I wish that he meant it

It's been a long time, hereing the mobsters

This ain't overnight, it's years in the process

Shed a tear in the process, now process is over

All my niggaz get prepared for the Oscars

Back to the block, sharing a lobster

Morris Malone, Sam Malone, preparing the vodka, holla

Hallejulah, no hum-du-allah, but respecting my Aki

He held me down, when it was getting real rocky

Hustling, isn't a hobby

I sit in the lobby, look at my ovie, have visions of Gotti

Visions of lotties, pictures of Blood, scenes of L

I wanna see my son, piss in that potty

Jimmy, I'm going to make sure your wrist is real rocky

See my plans are for long term like Mr. Miyagi

Wax on, wax off, put our wax on, take that wack off

Over some nights, I had fights over the white

The roads to the lows, I knows what it's like

Now, career over like Mike: anyone

Tyson, Jordan, Jackson, it's over

This shit right here touched my soul, man

My grandmother or something, 56 bless her soul

Apartment 56 that is, 101, West 140th

Rest In Peace Liddiah Giles, Blood Shed..