Letter To Stack

Uh, what's good my nigga

Feel I write you a lil' kype

Let you know what's going on out here

Yeah

Dear Mr. Rayquon Elliott

They knew you as Stacks, I never meant to call out your alias

You prolly think I'm being rebellious, but that ain't the case

You turnin' over in ya grave

Listenin' to flows that nigga spit

That me and you help develop

And oh, I fucked that nigga bitch

Reminisce the days in the studio, we was makin' hits

Can I roll wit' you, crunch time, hooks, no punchlines

Crooks, no one time, we was all wave, look at now

Jim only sold 10 thou

Put his men down, they ain't have a shot

Put a lil' arsenal together, Yung Los, Mustard, and Al Pac

How hot?, niggaz think they are when they up against

Dropped the Quarantine, all the bitches in love wit' it

See me after shows, gimme groupie love

Copped the 750-L.I. when they see me in the Coupe they love, lugie up

Copped a new crib for my wifey, 'bout to start trial

Marty, my prosecutor, tried to knife me

Tried to put me back in the oranges, they want filet mignone

Cheese grits, and omelets

Problem is, always had me heart in it

Told you from the jump that he's a creep, money was just a part of it

Nigga wanted both our styles, my hooks, your flows

Our song, Chrissy was in the car alone

All the while, he was out at nights, eye twerkin'

Puttin' together waves, we was surfin', nigga came burstin'

Flyin' through the doors tryna kick my whores out on the street (Damn)

After I'm three songs deep

Now I got my own lab, two Mac Pros

Got the Digi-3 Pro Tools, Bigga got the vocal

Bigga got the (got the) soul food

Chicken, macaroni with the cheese, that's my homie now, Big Mook

Oh F O, he tried to slow me down, told me nephew showed discipline

Pussy aint' money, time to get it in

Nigga these bitches come late and get ya paper, did the bid

But the nigga got 8 kids

Anyway, back to the matter at hand, it's all the songs

Everybody on Hot 9, they usin' Autotunes

Niggaz is not wavy, Gravy, played the B.I.G. movie

I went to see it, woozy, moody

And on that note, I'm 'bout to end this shit

Squa-Squaaad Up

Really I'm representin', yeah

Representin' baby

My letter to Stack Bundles

Yeah, let ya know what's going on

Prolly turnin' over in ya grave

I love my family (Fuckin' wit' this man)

I love the way that we used to be (got me against the ropes)

Niggaz is gettin' trees

See I got that Sour D's and that Juicy Juicy (Boss Don Biggavel')

Baby you found my name

We at the penthouse, let these hoes stay-yay

Tell me why the road turned

Nigga ain't do one of these

Where's the dedication, where's the homage

Fuck him, I got you nigga

Got so many hits together dog

So crazy. so wavy

Abra-cadabra, pen-a-tow

M.O.B. 1, so many songs man

Letter to Stacks

Boss Don Biggavel', Oww