2Pac - Point The Finga

[Intro:]
You could get the finger,
Come and get some!
The middle!
Ah, yeah, they love to point the finger.

[Chorus – ×4:]
Boom, boom, boom on your back ass, bitch!
You could get the finger,
Come and get some!
The middle!

[Verse 1: 2Pac]
I thought I hit rock bottom, they ban my album, point the finger,
I guess nobody loves a real nigga slash rap singer,
I thought I'd bring a little truth to the young troops,
I brought proof that the niggas need guns, too.
It's not to be a racist, but let's face this,
Wouldn't you if we could trade places?
I got lynched by some crooked cops, and to this day
Them same mothafuckas on the beat gettin' major paid,
But when I get my check, they takin' tax out,
So we payin' for these pigs to knock the blacks out.
Ain't that a bitch, some officers are gettin' rich
Whoopin' on thugs and robbin' drug dealers for they shit,
As far as jealousy bein' a celebrity
No matter who committed the crime, they all yell at me.
And the media is greedier than most,
You could sell ‘em your soul or they'll be on ya till a nigga's ghost,
And everyday I read the paper, there's another lie,
They show my picture for the crimes of another guy.
Now how's that for the life of a big shot,
A dead cop, a law suit, a little kid shot,
I play them nothing ass marks in the park
For tryna earn they stripes in the dark.
Just ‘cause I come there, don't mean I from there, peep,
Only jealous mothafuckas beef, and point the finger.

[Chorus – ×4:]
Boom, boom, boom on your back ass, bitch!
You could get the finger,
Come and get some!
The middle!

[Verse 2: 2Pac]
As I run up on ‘em madman, a nutcase with a screw loose,
A zoot troupe full of foolies with toolies,
Niggas run to me, don't come to me with beef,
Take your jewels and your jeep, boom-boom! Let that ass sleep.
It's gettin' hectic, niggas run quick,
Buck shots are the payback for dumb shit,
All you niggas on the block tryna test me,
Best wear a vest or get open like sesame.
I'll run up on you mad deep while you're tryna sleep,
I'm steady pumpin' bullets in your sheets,
Wake up, mothafucka, don't stutter,
Point-blank by a nigga from the gutter, yeah!
Gimme mine, gimme mine, gimme mine,
Ban my rhymes, now I'm back to bustin' nines,
And bustas can't get none, hell no!
A quick flurry, and he's buried with a swelled jaw.
I came up from the amateurs to pro hits,
At 5-0, so you know I take no shit.
And everybody wants to kill a bringer
Of bad news, so they choose to point the finger.

[Chorus – ×4:]
Boom, boom, boom on your back ass, bitch!
You could get the finger,
Come and get some!
The middle!

[Verse 3: 2Pac]
One, two, three, peace to the real G's,
Still me till these mothafuckas kill me,
I bring skills and I build, kill at will,
Smoke sess till I'm ill, still feel me?
I say one, two, three, peace to the real G's,
Still me till these mothafuckas kill me,
Pick it up, pick it up, give it up,
Best to duck or get fucked for your bucks.
Scream one, two, three, peace to the real G's,
Still me till these mothafuckas kill me,
I can't give up, it's a black thang
And I ain't goin' back to the crack game.
You can do it, son, be a man and stand up or run.
Bitches, let ‘em point the finger.
You can do it, son, be a man and stand up or run.
Snitches, let ‘em point the finger.
Yo, one, two, three, peace to the real G's,
Still me till these mothafuckas kill me,
I guess nobody loves a rap singer,
That's why these mothafuckas, ha ha ha, point the finger!

[Chorus – ×11:]
Boom, boom, boom on your back ass, bitch!
You could get the finger,
Come and get some!
The middle!