Z-Ro - Never Been lyrics

The less I fuck with you niggas
The better I feel
Don’t know no nothin’ else what I
Can be if I wasn’t real
I borrowed those lines from Plies
That’s just how I feel
Brass knuckles and a 38 with a beam
That’s just how I chill
AK-47 and a ski mask, that’s how I kill
Professional dranka’ my nigga
My cup will never spill where I’m from
The police is the only thing I’ll run from
Only thang on my mind is money
And what bitch I can get some from
I ain’t never been a bitch
Don’t know how to be a hoe
Only thing I know how to
Do is collect my dough
So if you owe me money, pay me on time
8-7-tre-4-2-4, death before dishonor on mine
Me be a punk
I would have to leave this world for that
Matter fact my momma coulda’ had
A girl for that if I hold my hands a certain
When I’m in the courtroom
That could guarantee me walkin’
Out of the courtroom
Ain’t no other rapper got a set
Of skills like Ro got
I swear I’m half a man and half machine
Call me Ro-bot
You ain’t gotta wonder if Z-Ro
Gon’ ever sell out, z-Ro not
From Greenspoint to Mo-City, Texas
All of that’s Ro block
Kick door burglars started in my hood
So watch yo’ door lock
Kick that bitch in, roll in yo’ shit
Take everything and then roll out
That was ’94, I was hiding out
Homicide was trying to find me
Ain’t that a bitch
Now I got my whole city and state behind me
I’m cool as a popsicle, in the freezer
In the winter time but, I’m a damn fool and
A half about respect, so give me mine
Uhhh, so when they lay me in my hole
They gon’ say that was a
Man right there homie, i put that on my soul

I ain’t never been a bitch or don’t
Know how to be a hoe
Only thing I know how to do
Is go get the dough
The cheese, the bread, the feria, lucci
Hoe I just want what’s in your purse
You can keep the cuchi
I ain’t never been a bitch or don’t
Know how to be a hoe
Only thing I know how to do
Is go get the dough, heyy
Even if they kill me I ain’t going no where
Turn up the volume to the radio
I’ll be right there
(Ro-Pac) It feels so good to be free
I ain’t even thinkin’ bout a penitentiary
Apple sauce and yellow grit's
That ain’t breakfast
T-bone steak and eggs back
In Screwed Up Texas ain’t a thang change
Everything still the same
Haters still hated, gangbangers still bang
Police still fuck wit anybody
That’s makin’ change
Snitches still need a record deal
Cuz they still sang
You ain’t no woman, you a bitch to me
And a friend, still ain’t shit to me
Everytime I make a hundred thousand dollars
Here they come if I’m doing bad
They the ones I don’t here from
Y’all niggas ain’t real like Hawk and Screw
And since y’all ain’t them
Y’all the ones I’m talkin’ too
Y’all niggas ain’t shit
Y’all pussies and some tit's
But got the nerve to say that
You a blood or a crip first one to set trip
But the first one to run
Own six or seven guns, but you never shot one
I Pray towards the sun
Everyday before I’m done
When it rain on me it ain’t water
It's money by the ton
I’m only one man with an Earth worth of foes
They hate me in the hood
In public and at my shows
If looks can kill I die when they ride by
But ask them why they hate me
And they don’t know why
Send a playa through hell and back
Then they sent me to prison
But check me out homie I’m
Free and I’m still livin’
So many women and men don’t want me to win
I got God
That’s why they bullets can’t break my skin
Roll foreign in the winter
American in the spring
Any other time a playa
Stretch Hummer limousine
Whether you see me in person
Or in a magazine i keep bags of purple
Ain’t no mo’ bags of green
I’m white t-shirt, white 1's and blue jeans
The MVP and the only player on my team
The female scream cuz I’m the
Man of they dreams
I’m represented by my piece, chain
Watch and my ring yea I’m on the radio
Yea I’m on the television
But never sellin’ my soul is
The most important mission
No mo’ whippin chickens up in
The kitchen, nigga please
If I ain’t pimpin my bitches
Then I must be over seas
I drop a lot of CD’s
That’s how I make cheese
So much ice in my mouth
My breath is a cool breeze
Pardon my rainbow, a playa just had to sneeze
My game tight 360 degrees
I ain’t a fresh prince
I’m a muthafuckin’ king this ain’t a pistol
This is a muthafuckin’ machine
50 caliber brown
And this is something you never seen
Big enough to hit when it miss
And it don’t need a beam
I shake a lot of hands
Walk across a lot of stages
My signature at the bottom of a lot of pages
Even without a diamond I still shine bright
And I hog the lime light
That’s because I rhyme tight
Kush keep my mind right, cuz I stress so bad
Sometimes I lose my temper and get so mad
But a voice say, "Ro, focus and get yo’ cash"
You wanna know if I do that
You better bet yo’ ass, bEOTCHH!