\"One Love\"[Verse One]\nWhattup kid? I know shit is rough doing your bid\nWhen the cops came you shoulda slid to my crib\nFuck it black, no time for looking back it\'s done\nPlus congratulations you know you got a son\nI heard he looks like you, why don\'t your lady write you?\nTold her she should visit, that\'s whenshe got hyper\nFlippin, talk about he acts too rough\nHe didn\'t listen he be riffin\' while I\'m telling him stuff\nI was like yeah, shorty don\'t care, she a snake too\nFucking with the niggaz from that fake crew that hate you\nBut yo, guess who got shot in the dome-piece?\nJerome\'s niece, on her way home from Jones Beach - it\'s buggedPlus little Rob is selling drugs on the dimeHangin out with young thugs that all carry 9\'sAt night time there\'s more trife than everWhattup with Cormega, did you see \'em, are y\'all together?If so then hold the fort down, represent to the fullestSay whassup to Herb, Ice and BulletI left a half a hundred in your commissaryYou was my nigga when push came to shoveOne what? one love[Verse Two]\nDear Born, you\'ll be out soon, stay strong\nOut in New York the same shit is goin on\nThe crack-heads stalking, loud-mouths is talking\nHold, check out the story yesterday when I was walking\nThe nigga you shot last year tried to appear like he hurtin\' something\nWord to mother, I heard himfronting\nAnd he be pumping on your block\nYour man gave him your glock\nAnd now they run together, what up son, whatever\nSince I\'m on the streets I\'ma put it to a cease\nBut I heard you blew a nigga with a ox for the phone piece\nWhylin on the Island, but now with Elmira\nBetter chill cause them niggazwill put that ass on fire\nLast time you wrote you said they tried you in the showers\nBut maintain when you come home the corner\'s ours\nOn the reels, all these crab niggaz know the deal\nWhen we start the revolution all they probably do is squeal\nBut chill, see you on the next V-I\nI gave your mom dukes loot for kicks, plus sent you flicks\nYour brother\'s buck whylin\' in four maine he wrote me\nHe might beat his case, \'til he come home I play it low key\nSo stay civilised, time flies\nThough incarcerated your mind (dies)\nI hate it when your mum cries\nIt kinda wants to make me murder, for real-a\nI\'veeven got a mask and gloves to bust slugs for one love\n\n[Verse Three]\nSometimes I sit back with a Buddha sack\nMind\'s in another world thinking how can we exist through the facts\nWritten in school text books, bibles, et cetera\nFuck a school lecture, the lies get me vexed-er\nSo I be ghost from my projects\nI take my pen and pad for the week\nAnd hittin nails while I\'m sleepin\nA two day stay, you may say I need the time alone\nTo relax my dome, no phone, left the 9 at home\nYou see the streets have me stressed somethin terrible\nFuckin with the corners have a nigga up in Belleville\nOr h.d.m., hit withnumbers from 8 to 10\nA future in a maximum state pen is grim\nSo I comes back home, nobody\'s helpin shorty doo-wop\nRollin two Phillies together in the Bridge we called \'em oowops\nHe said, \"Nas, niggaz could be bustin\' off the roof\nSo I wear a bullet proof and pack a black tres-deuce\"\nHe inhaled so deep, shut his eyes like he was sleep\nStarted coughing when I peeked to watch me speak\nI sat back like the mack, my army suit was black\nWe was chillin\' on these benches where he pumped his loose cracks\nI took an l when he passed it, this little bastard\nKeeps me blasted he starts talkin mad shit\nI hadto school him, told him don\'t let niggaz fool him\n\'cos when the pistol blows that\'s when a murder be the cool one\nTough luck when niggaz are struck, families fucked up\nCould\'ve caught your man, but didn\'t look when you bucked up\nMistakes happen, so take heed never bust up\nAt the crowd catch him solo, make the right man bleed\nShorty\'s laugh was cold blooded as he spoke so foul\nOnly twelve trying to tell me that he liked my style\nThen I rose, wiping the blunts ash from my clothes\nThen froze only to blow the herb smoke through my nose\nAnd told my little man that I\'m a go cyprose\nThere\'s some jewels in the skull that he can sell if he chose\nWords of wisdom from nas try to rise up above\nKeep an eye out for jake shorty what\nOne love hip-hop, ill, Love, Matic, Nas, One, rap