Big Proof
Rest in peace dudey, we love you
We just wanna keep makin' you proud, heh

(Proof) my life is trapped in these lines
That's why I'm packin' these nines
I gotta rap, I ain't dyin'
That's in the back of my mind
Got a strap made of iron
Can't relax on this grind
Bendin' over backwards for these slackers
'Til I'm snappin' my spine
Natural high, I gotta focus (focus)
On these bogus poachers
Lookin' over my shoulder
Proof get it poppin' like soda, hold up

(We nothin' but soldiers) slow up
(This gun is loaded) roll up
They beef and we leavin' 'em coked up

If Em say it, I spray it
If he will it, I kill it
We kilpatrick and Ilitch of Detroit, y'all can feel it
Real as this gun on my waistline
At war we don't waste time (woo)
Lord, man, he can't take a punch
And Fifty can take nine (blaow)
We got school crap here at the 7, 8, and Dexter
I'm up in Hollis spendin' dollars, ain't feelin' no pressure
Yes sir, your texture is bitch, betcha you flinch
When Proof shoot up that coup and wet your whole clique

Copyright: Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group
Writer(s): De Shaun Dupree Holton, Marshall Mathers