The book of life

Friends, how many have 'em?
How long before they split like atoms?
Don't ask me, but what I do stand behind
Is someone havin your back, seems hard to find
You know the line, "Don't judge the book by its cover"
Read every page cause the nigga's my brother
But it shoulda stated, that the book's on one's life
Is always upgraded (so open the book!)

(Alright, business. Page 9, right?)
Yo, sun's out so momma's first son's up
Between me and Deen, I'm the first one up
Ready to grind, always on time
For any interview, face-to-face, even online
Knocked out about fo' befo', Deen stumbles through
The door groggy, last night foggy, so unprofessional! What? You wanna hold a congressional hearing on this shit?
C'mon, Pop, quit!

This is how we is when it comes to the biz
Off-point, off-centered
And when you point it out, he gets ill-tempered
Promoter of the show's pissed cause the spot had a curfew
But Hurricane Whitter blew through
And made the mess of the date (Yeah, I got here late, and?)
We only did four songs, 'spose to do more songs
Now Ken-Du dealin with the riot and the venue, yeah

(Crazy.. got this shit right here, on page 63)
Aiyyo, little kid's sis' insists she knows me
Backstage access, aspiring actress
She gon' be the candidate to get this caucus
Of course my campaign is interrupted
Jacob's fury, he's wearing a helmet
Penile pad like he's Mr. Cockney
I ain't buyin it, he can't sell it
I'll redial Madlock, the verdict is sloppy
We used to split the rations, trios manages
But now I got a private car parked garages
All on my front seat, he playin like bumper cars
(I think yo' bitch likes me!) Nigga she's neither one of ours
He on the bitch strong so I'ma play passive
Now she sayin she gotta go home - you bastard!
Damn, I'm in the gooddamn dirt like a shovel
Outta work with a pay stub and earnin no love (Oh yeah I'll open the book!
Yeah let me open it for you
I'll turn to the page for you motherfucker
It's right here! Look right here!)
It's like the harmonica sounds of black clouds around
Word around the campfire you said I'm a tramp buyer
Nigga, I don't pay for hoes
Unlike you who disappears for days for hoes!

Well here go Captain Paper-Frozen, Salad-That's-Frosty
The only dude in the group with a personal glossy
Personal transport, champion hand sport
Caught him yankin the cord, this dude is boss

And the Lord won't save us even though we need saving
Can't even wrestle it, now it's all desolate
Like B.B. said, "The thrill is dead"
And the afterlife, it's trife to stay in the red

But I'm stayin ahead, one lesson to thank you
Stow a skunk in the street cred and one in the bank too
Far gone but ain't far enough to see through
Word is you did a solo album with your people
But life ain't that Pop, you ain't no show stopper
Send the boys over to crown you when-

Hey what the fuck you just say? Yo stop the tape!
Yo, WHAT THE F*** YOU JUST SAY?!

Nigga, I said what you heard!

Oh, uh-huh.. please...
And WHAT THE F*** DID I JUST HEAR?

Oh, it's like that Pop?
...It's on now