Artist: Z-Ro
Album:  Angel Dust
Song:   Never Been
Typed by: Lil Hustle

[Z-Ro]
The less I fuck with you niggaz, the better I feel
Don't know nothing else that I could be, if I wasn't real
I borrowed those lines fuck lies, that's just how I feel
Brass knuckles and a .38 with a beam, that's just how I chill
AK-47 and a ski mask, that's how I kill
Professional drinker my nigga, my cup won't ever spill
Where I'm from, the police is the only thing I run from
Only thang on my mind is money, and what bitch I can get some from
I ain't never been a bitch, don't know how to be a hoe
Only thang I know how to do, is collect my do'
So if you owe me money, pay me on time
8-7 tre 4-2-4, death before dishonor on mine
Me be a punk, I would have to leave this world for that
Matter fact, my mama coulda had a girl for that
If I hold my hands a certain way, when I'm in the courtroom
That could guarantee me, walking out of the courtroom 
Ain't no other rapper, got a set of skills like Ro got
I swear I'm half a man and half machine, call me Ro-bot
You ain't gotta wonder if Z-Ro gon' ever sell out, Z-Ro not
From Greenspoint to Mo City Texas, all of that's Ro block
Kick do' burglar started in my hood, so what your do' locked
Kick that bitch in roll in your shit, take everything and then roll out
94 I was hiding out, homicide was trying to find me
Ain't that a bitch, now I got my whole city and state behind me
I'm cool as a popsicle in the freezer, in the winter time
But I'm a damn fool and a half about respect, so give me mine
Uh, so when they lay me in my whole
They gon' say that was a man right there homie, I put that on my soul

[Chorus]
I ain't never been a bitch, and don't know how to be a hoe
Only thang I know how to do, is go get the do'
The cheese the bread, the feria loochie
Hoe I just want what's in your purse, you can keep the coochie
I ain't never been a bitch, and don't know how to be a hoe
Only thing I know how to do, is go get the do'
Even if they kill me, I ain't going nowhere
Turn up the volume to the radio, I'll be right there

[Z-Ro]
Ro-pac, it feels so good to be free
I ain't even thinking, bout a penitentiary
Apple sauce and yellow grits, that ain't breakfast
T-Bone steak and eggs, back in Screwed Up Texas
Ain't a thang changed, everythang still the same
Haters still hate, and gangbangers still bang
Police still fuck with anybody, that's making change
Snitches still need a record deal, cause they still sing
You ain't no woman, you a bitch to me
And a friend, still ain't shit to me
Everytime I make a hundred thousand dollars, here they come
If I'm doing bad, they the ones I don't hear from
Ya'll niggaz ain't real, like H.A.W.K. and Screw
And since ya'll ain't them, ya'll the ones I'm talking to
Ya'll niggaz ain't shit, ya'll pussy and some tits
But got the nerve to say, that you a Blood or a Crip
First one to set trip, but the first one to run
Own six or seven guns, but you never shot one
I pray towards the sun, everyday before I'm done
When it rain on me it ain't water, it's money by the ton
I'm only one man, with an earth worth of fo's
They hate me in the hood, in public and at my shows
If looks could kill, I'd die when they ride by
But ask em why they hate me, and they don't know why
Send a player through hell and back, then they sent me to prison
But check me out homie, I'm free and I'm still living
So many women and men, don't want me to win
I got God, that's why they bullets can't break my skin
Roll foreign in the winter, American in the spring
Any other time, a player stretch hummer limousine
Whether you see me in person, or in a magazine
I keep bags of purple, ain't no mo' bags of green
I'm white t-shirt white 1's, and blue jeans
The MVP, and the only player on my team
The females scream, cause I'm the man of they dreams
I'm represented by my piece and chain, watch and my ring
Yeah I'm on the radio, yeah I'm on the television
But never selling my soul, is the most important mission
No mo' whipping chickens, up in the kitchen nigga please
If I ain't pimping my bitches, then I must be overseas
I drop a lot of cd's, that's how I make G's
So much ice in my mouth, my breath is a cool breeze
Pardon my rainbow, a player just had to sneeze
My game tight, three hundred and sixty degrees
I ain't a fresh prince, I'm a mo'fucking king
This ain't a pistol, this is a mo'fucking machine
Fifty caliber browning, is something you never seen
Big enough to hit when it miss, and it don't need a beam
I shake a lot of hands, walk across a lot of stages
My signature go at the bottom, of a lot of pages
Even without a diamond, I'll still shine bright
In or out the limelight, that's because I rhyme tight
Kush keep my mind right, cause I stress so bad
Sometimes I lose my temper, and get so mad
But a voice say Ro focus, and get your cash
You wanna know if I do that, you better bet your ass biatch