Artist: A.I.G.
Album:  Fame Labs Presents
Song:   Next of Kin
Typed by: The Prophet

[Intro: AllahWise]
Yeah, the author most famous
Once again, yo, yo

[AllahWise]
Yo, the God drop jewels, bomb fools, pump like
Pharmaceuticals, breakin' the rules
Break it in, like new shoes, payin' my dues
It's like chess you made the wrong move, made you loose
Part of me don’t mean to be rude
I’m getting hungry, dude, fix me a plate of food
Slidin’ like beer at the bar
Roll them grass out of a glass jar
Nah pa' you wrong, I’m not a rap star
I’m drivin in a flashy car, flip T.V. in the dash
Mix weed with the hash, look at cheese in the stash
Yo, feelin on her ass, me and Donnie Bank crash
Hook the bank with the cash, who think that these guns don’t blast
I laugh, my tank is full of gas, a/k/a Slash Wally
Break through the glass of the lobby, tryn'na stop me
I'm takin’ out everybody, don't feel sorry
For those who play hero, for the DeNiro
For six-zero shots, that spit through the window
Duck low, muthafuckas know, shit ain’t a game
Cock and aim, got the name, most famous
Rocking with the King of Fame, will put the locks on the chain
They sniff raw dope or the 'caine, I ain't the blame for them
For stickin' dope all up in the veins, sweatin' like pourin' rain
Damn, they look all the same, smoke dust on the bust or the train
The rush to the brain, this is a crushin' pain
Burn without touchin' the flame, high like a jetplane
Now I'm cock blockin' them lame, you heard I came and left death's game

[Chorus 2X: AllahWise]
All my next of kin, stay together like Mexicans
Playin' to win we got next and

[AllahWise]
I'mma trynna lamp in Brazil for a month, cliff, you rollin' a blunt
I'm feelin' drunk, try'nna sell a mil' out the trunk
It's King of Fame, most famous, BET, black entertainer's back
But the game is far back, like Uranus, but the aim is
Reach higher goals, keep 'em on they toes
Knowin' that they blamin' us, (for what?)
When the gat blows, close down rap shows
Move where the cash goes, everybody owes
This ain't a game, you stink, ho
Where's the bank roll, you bitch ass niggas
I let you know, what we bang for, battle like it's gang war
Bang out on the door, God, bang that nigga face in the floor
He should of paid us more, we waitin' for a hot minute
Hop right back in it, black tinted
Fiber optic locked in the Benz
Got rudeboy friends better known as my brethren
Burn smoke, gun tote, tucked in the coat
Movin' like we broke, on float, robbin' the Love Boat
Cutthroat, slash signature
Fly clothes, flickin' a picture
Don't give a fuck, which rapper richer
I blast quicker, like two shots of glass of liquor
Ask them niggas

[Chorus 2X]