There's a machine that I have nothing to do with. It's called the "Tupac Machine."
Ever since I was an itty bitty kitty, been drinking liquor out of Mama's titty.
The only time I have problems is when I sleep.
We probaly in hell already, our dumb asses not knowin, everybody kissin ass to go to heaven aint goin.
All I'm trying to do is survive and make good out of the dirty, nasty, unbelievable lifestyle that they gave me.
Bury me smilin' with G's in my pocket, Have a party at my funeral let every rapper rock it Let the hoes that I used to know, from way before Kiss me from my head to my toe, Gimme a paper and pen so I can write about my life of sin, Couple bottles of gin, in case I don't get in.