Gone

But it's too late, it's too late He, gone You sweat her, and I ain't talkin 'bout a Coogi You a big L, and I ain't talkin 'bout Cool J See me at the airport, at least 20 Louis Treat me like the Prince and this my sweet brother Numpsay BROTHER NUMPSAY! Groupies sound too choosy Take 'em to the show and talk all through the movies Says she want diamonds, I took her to Ruby Tuesdays If we up in Friday's, I still have it my way Too late, we, gone - we strivin home Gone - we ride on chrome It's too late Y'all don't want no prob from me What you rappers could get is a job from me Maybe you could be my intern, and in turn I'll show you how I cook up summer, in the win-turr Aaron love the raw dog, when will he learn Caught somethin on the Usher tour he had to "Let it Burn" Plus he already got three chil'run Arguin over babysitters like, "Bitch - it's yo' turn!" Damn 'Ye, it'd be stupid to ditch you Even your superficial raps is super official R-R-R-Roc pastel with Gucci on With TV's in the ride, throw a movie on Said he couldn't rap now he at the top with doobie long Cause the dookie's on any song that they threw me on, gone We strivin home, gone I ride on chrome... We strivin home, gone Killa, I ride on chrome Knock knock, who's there? Killa Cam, Killa who? Killa Cam, hustler, grinder, gorilla true Oh my chinchilla blue, blue you ever dealt with a dealer Well here's the deal ma we goin to the No concealin, no ceiling I don't need a roof Act up, get out, I don't need you poof Poof, be gone, damn tough luck dag Dag, niggaz still doin puff puff pass Pull the truck up fast and I tell 'em Hey, back in a touched up Jag, shit Y'all niggaz want Killa Cam, cerebellum An old man just gon' tell 'em (too late, he, gone) Then I see how y'all gonna react when I'm (gone) My last girl want me back then I'm on Fine stay, you got the grind hey Came back, read what the sign say (too late, he, gone) Yes I know you wanna see my demise Yeah you church boy actin like a thief in disguise Ain't leavin my side, see the greed in my eyes Ask Abby y'all hustle for a week to the Chi, shit And that ain't leavin alive, please believe me Gave Weezy a piece of the pie, and You can ask George or Regina The whole Westside I explore with the Beemer now We strivin home, I ride on chrome Listen homeboy move on That's your best bet, why's that? Cause Uhh, uhh, yo, yo I been pourin out some liquor for the fact that my pal's gone And tryin to help his momma with the fact that her child gone And since we used to bubble like a tub full of Calgon Guess it's only right that I should help her from now on But since they got a foul on, what coulda gone wrong Now they askin Cons, how long has this gone on And maybe all this money mighta gone to my head Cause they got me thinkin money mighta gone to the feds So I ain't goin to the dread, but he'll go on up to bed And when I came the next mornin he was gone with my bread And with that bein said, I had gone on my instincts And gone to the spots where they go to get mixed drinks But lookin back now shoulda gone to the crib And rented "Gone With the Wind," cause I'da gone about 10 But I had gone with my friend, and we had gone to the bar And heard a nigga talkin shit so I had gone to the car And now the judge is tellin me that I had gone too far And now we gone for 20 years, doin time behind bars And since I gone to a cell for some cruddy crimes I guess I gone to the well one too many times, cause I'm gone Uh-uh-uh Uh-uh-uh uh uh onnn, uh uh-uh onnn Uh-uh onnn, uh uh-uh I'mmmm Ah-head of my time, sometimes years out So the powers that be won't let me get my ideas out And that make me wanna get my advance out And move to Oklahoma and just live at my Aunt's house Yeah, I romance the thought of leavin it all behind Kanye step away from the lime- -light, like, when I was on the grind In the "One, Nine, Nine, Nine" Before, model chicks was bendin over or Dealerships asked me Benz or Rover, man If I could just get one beat on Hova We could get up off this cheap-ass sofa What the summer of the Chi got to offer an 18-year-old Sell drugs or get a job, you gotta play gyro My dawg worked at Taco Bell, hooked us up plural-fied A week later the manager count the churros Sometimes I can't believe it when I look up in the mirrow How we out in Europe, spendin Euros They claim you never know what you got 'til it's GONE I know I got it, I don't know what y'all on I'ma open up a store for aspiring MC's Won't sell 'em no dream, but the inspiration is free But if they ever flip sides like Anakin You'll sell everything includin the mannequin They got a new bitch now you Jennifer Aniston Hold on I'll handle it, don't start panickin, stay calm Shorty's at the door cause they need more Inspiration for they life, they souls, and they songs They said sorry Mr. West is gone!