Rick Ross - I Feel Like Pac / I Feel Like Biggie lyrics

[Intro: Swizz Beatz] I've been waiting for a long time (how long) Real damn long time (how long) I've been waiting for a long time (how ya feel) Man.. [Hook: Swizz Beatz] I feel like Pac, I feel like Biggie I'm feeling like these hating n***as waiting to get me I'm losing my sleep, I'm losing my mind You know I go hard when it comes to mine I feel like Pac, Biggie, Pac, Biggie [Verse 1: Rick Ross] s**a walk up on me, talking like he know me Ain't no codefendant do my dirt all by my lonely Down south n***a, talking Jam Pony Rest in Peace to Uncle Al, he showed me my first Rollie b**hes want to know me, haters want to show me But I'm just so vicious Double M worth eighty tickets Cop just pulled me over, caught up in this thing Take my case to trial, my juror Paula Deen I know they hate a n***a but he's such a major n***a Give Chelsea Clinton the .44 when C.I.A. was with us 305 the realest, Ricky Ross the richest Belaire on my table, I talk it then I live it [Hook] [Interlude: Diddy] Ay yo, don't be afraid to be great motherf**ers, let's go [Verse 2: Meek Mill] All you starve and I eat fast, Mulsanne when I creep past Blacked out, I max out, with the same watch on Meech hand We k**ing n***as no repents, my momma got like three Jags You talkin' bout you a baller, n***a we really gettin' that street cash Say old money, new work, smell the 'caine on my new shirt My OG said strap up and don't lay your head where you do dirt And my momma said do school work, I was making that tool work And n***as wanted me dead with a whole all in my head Man they hit Big in the pa**enger, hit Pac in the pa**enger So I'm riding round with this Mac on me, and a bunch of shooters in back of us Roll up, you a dead man, headshots when we clap at ya We sendin n***as to the motherland, and I ain't talkin' bout Africa [Hook] [Verse 3: T.I.] Feel like it's me against the world, bury me a G My middle finger to the world, I'm gon' forever be a G p**y n***a want a witness, stay armed, no Biggie When we get busy, no alarms, just semis We pour out a little liquor, thug life, straight balling We cradle to the grave, ride when my homie call Give a damn if it mean life or d**h, what's beef? When somebody gotta die, we gon' march to the street They said Brenda had a baby but she left it in the alley One shot that playa hater now we going back to Cali Hypnotize n***as, I got a story to tell My ambitions as a rider got me "ready to die And when we ride on no more pain, we go hard as sh** Why you complaining and you wonder why we call you b**h It's an every day struggle n***a, me and my b**h It's unbelievable suicidal thoughts you would get Said f** me warning and the gun don't blast Give me the loot, sorry n***a, give me one more chance You know this sh** don't stop, keep these s**ers under pressure Hollerin' only God can judge me shawty, I ain't mad at ya Got my mind made up, you n***a "can't see me" A paid thug n***a, that's why shorty wanna be me See a kid around around in your town kick in your door I feel like Pac and Biggie, love the dough more than you know [Hook] [Outro: Diddy] Ay yo, how you gon' compare yourself to greatness If you ain't ready to be great, man? Ain't no more to it