Biboa's Theme Lyrics - Searching For Jerry Garcia - Proof

[Proof] 

La-la la-la la-la la-la, pretend to sharrrrrre.. 

Da, da-da, ain't nothin, by D-Twellllllve.. 

Weed no seeds, last year Cannabis Cup 

A druggie that mind hasn't been damaged enough 

With danglin nuts I lust for angels to fuck 

My cannon is tucked, move fast I panic and bust 

Brain burnt out like a mechanical clutch 

I'm too schizophrenic to touch 

A scandalous bunch don't gamble with trust 

Scammin for bucks, pink candy deluxe out mishandlin sluts 

After a show bring all my fans on the bus 

Next city, leave 'em dizzy, stranded and stuck 

Hangin in clubs like blacks in slavery 

Gats we aim and squeeze at acts of bravery 

Maybe speakers {?} bouncin off of Shady Lee {?} 

Can barely add, but still got A.D.D. (what I say?) 

Work the do', make 'em play for keeps 

I ain't gotta say shit 'til the A.K. shall speak 

[Chorus: Proof] 

To whom it may concern, this planet is fucked 

Life had been hard so far, I just manage to bluff 

Scandal and drugs got my hands in some cuffs 

Man it's been rough, but shit I don't plan to give up, uhh 

[Proof] 

Speakin at AA meetings while intoxicated 

Trainin a arm-less fighter to box in Vegas 

Plot with haters, they kill me on my block for later 

Havin free phone sex with operators 

Next Grammy's your man P is rockin Gators 

Leavin full with rabbit ears, I'm a pocket raider 

Every block invaders, all cops is traitors 

Any hood thief hands get burnt like hot potatoes 

The hardest mayor that boycott garbage sayers 

Thinkin outside the box like Harvard Squares 

Wild like Ben Wallace hair 

Hate the niggaz that ain't spitters blow up off market favors (you!) 

So from now on I'm startin terror 

Aiyyo God, here I come, tell 2Pac to wait up 

[Chorus] 

[Proof] 

Got young famous that handle any further glory 

Fix my son a lunch for school so he'll murder for me 

Readin 'Pac and Pun tags up in pergatory 

Waitin to get in heaven or "Grimey," that's word to Nore 

Anything you heard before me 

Hah, it's simple like a street life suburban story 

Turn my poor peeps into murkers for beef 

Who the fuck is Jerry? I'm searchin for weed 

And why did God make all these worthless MC's? 

Still tryin to find out for what purpose they breathe 

My pops hit the weed and then he birthed a new breed 

I hit bad bitches raw cause it's worth the disease 

Hate the Ku Klux Klan, they abuse curtains and sheets 

And I need 'em at home, but that's a personal peeve 

The (Pills) is still (Purple) indeed 

And I'm screamin loud as hell "Fuck the Earth" when I leave 

[Chorus]