The Letter

(Man, have you heard this stuff?

This gangsta rap? It's fuckin bullshit.

They're just talkin about dealin drugs and,

beatin on people and shit,

carryin guns to the studio. It's fucked up shit.

And y'know, you niggas

can't communicate with people)

Aw fuck you, you punk ass motherfucker

What the fuck you mean we can't communicate with people?

I tell you what, since we can't communicate, eh-eh

Eh B (yo) I'm gonna write this motherfucker a letter (alright)

Eh dogg, hand me my notebook (Here you go, dogg)

To whom it may concern whoever you may be

Before you criticise, try to understand me

If this shit do a million everytime you drop it

then you would be foolish to change the topic

I straight fiend for the cheddar, you know I got to get it

So I swing for the fence everytime I hit it

I been raised around the gangsta shit since elementary

with Gz and the feds and the state penitentiary

I'm from the place where the enemies put the scope on you

and when the police pull you over they plant dope on you

But you do what you need to feed your kids and your girl

But you bastards don't even understand my world

What you know about bangin, drug distributin and lootin

eviction notices and, drive-by shootin?

So to whom it may concern, this letter is to show

that real niggas only rap about what they know

I do it all for the cash, scrilla and the doe

If you ban gangsta rap then I gotta sell blow

To whom it may concern, this letter is to show

that real niggas only rap about what they know

I done had it up to here with the ass kissin

plus a nigga fed up with the media dissin

Politicians protest and hate like the rest

while niggas in the ghetto remain under stress

But I stay gangsta, keep bangin and hittin switches

while some West Coast Gz act like bitches

How the fuck you gonna speak against gangsta rap, nigga?

when that's what the fuck made you a gang of snaps, nigga

Fool was the shit, now how could you dare

become a millionaire and forget what got you there?

Fuck that, I hit a stick laced with embalment fluid

and make jams that make ya B and C walk to it

I was able to bang the hood and pack a fo'-fo'

Avoid the po-po and become a rap pro

So to whom it may concern, this letter is to show

that real niggas only rap about what they know

I keep my pants saggin and my boxers showin

And nigga it's Hoo Bangin for life in case you ain't knowin

Look at the cops, I know they fed around and fiest out

Peepin me cos I'm a thug and the watches iced out

I got homies cookin chemicals like a chemist

Next thing ya know we're outta town with birds flippin like a gymnast

All we know is bang or boss so we're jugglin

Can't get a job with two strikes so we're drug smugglin

Wit heat on my back like I'm solar, wit a pistola

mashin thru the ghetto witta car fulla yola

But I'd rather write rhymes and rap over beats

And if they ban that then a nigga still got to eat

In every situation poverty's what I'm facin

So I leave shell cases and keep my smoker's free basin

So to whom it may concern, this letter is to show

that real niggas only rap about what they know

PS, all you punk motherfuckers out there

hatin on us young niggas gettin all this money, eat a dick!

Cos we gon' stay rich, and continue to do our

thang and forever hoo ridin and Hoo Bang, nigga

[Chorus to fade]