Confusion

(Chorus x2: Buckshot)
 It's just a day with another night
 Another pray for another life
 Another wrong with another right
 Strong when I'm on this mic
 Cuz it's always, a lot of confusion
 (Buckshot)
 Industry rule number 10 thousand and 80
 Record company niggaz are shady, baby
 Definetly, never maybe, or have to be
 A pain in the ass, like 'fuck you, pay me'
 Crazy, picture me slippin', like a broke transmition
 I got both positions, I own both the missions
 I wrote poems for commissions
 I'm the leader for the squad, when the Gods
 In a hard perdicament, like
 Got a hot group, but need they contracts right
 Or got jerked for your publishing last fight
 Now you wanna act tight, let me give you advice
 It don't matter if you that nice
 Cuz the bottom line is the kind of mind, not the kind to rhyme
 Sign, and sealed, delivered, delivered and signed
 Right now, I know you wanna get yours
 I'm out my prime, so I got to get mine before I'm out my mind
 (Chorus x2)
 (Buckshot)
 Let's keep it real, y'all niggaz know the deal
 Rap on your LP's and don't own 'em still
 Don't own 'em, chill, don't it feel
 Foul, don't own your LP, but you own your bills, now
 Everybody got a story to tell, or glory to sale
 But alotta niggaz bore me to hell
 That's why the number one question
 Where's Buck? Get the number one answer
 Here, let's hear it up, listen up
 Yeah, I'm back with the hounds, ridin' round
 Cuz the hill look deep when you slidin' down, how that sound?
 I'm from the Crown, plus parts unknown
 Everybody who met me, took a part of me, home
 Cuz I be fool droppin', never was with crew hoppin'
 It's the true topic, that'll have y'all fools watchin'
 Dudes stoppin', in the middle of their tracks, like wait a minute
 Whose that, that's Buck, what the fuck?
 (Chorus x2)
 (Buckshot)
 From ya, streets to the industry, friend or enemy
 In the end it'll be, who got it, who don't, who want it, let's see
 Niggaz say that underground shit
 Like they don't want chips, yeah right, they don't want chips?
 Let's get this straight, underground of '93 and '94
 Ain't the underground of '98, I see it's too late
 For y'all to relate, so fuck it
 I left my show in the quarter to eight, a quarter to eight
 And y'all can talk about me and them streets
 Ain't shit to hide about BDI, I be in them streets
 Back on my grind, this week, spread your little rumors
 I'ma shut up, and this nine gon' speak
 All y'all internet freaks and click-on thugs
 On my web, get off my dick, you get no love
 This ain't face, but I faith in the snub
 After failin' with my OJ glove, show 'nuff, cuz
 (Chorus x2)