settin fires to your home How many times you gonna say i need help Who gives a fuck if i murder myself Im thinkin suicidal thoughts i shot a gay preacher
a tomb They pourin' out liquor wit no room to consume, you silly bafoon I pop niggas like balloons, I ain't feelin' 'em Walkin' in my big, blue chucks 'cause I'm killin' 'em Every time
big East Coast Where niggaz pack toast Home of the drug kingpins and cut throats (Hey boy, you's the rude boy on the block) (You try and stop the bum rush
put down the mics, pull up the girls to get the clappin' what You got one life to live, one gun to bust One nigga to save, one nigga to rush It's all
a state gun cockin' for you, niggas Twenty-One legal gun shots Poppin' for you niggas And I, blow tones, more force than cyclones Shit is on every time
J.N.: "I can make a bigger splash than you!" Jimmy: "Oh yeah, give it a shot." [While jumping up and down on diving board] J.N.: "Can opener!" [Big splash
, curious, curious Curious, curious, curious Hey boy, I watch that star man, shit's all in Should I shot it or begin I saw bootleggas no shinin' I saw Big
the intent to kill And end your existence, M E T Ain't no use for resistance, H O D I bees the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust The Egyptian Musk use
scenes like a desert for the 9-7 Ruck and Rock loaned me the glock to buck shots at the reverand To clear minds, we about to rush like adrenaline For
at the red light early in the morning and two or three motherfuckers cross the street. Yo senses heighten, reflexes sharpen vision's enhanced adrenaline flows as they rush
the place I was before 'Relax,'said the night man, We are programmed to receive. You can checkout any time you like, but you can never leave! Wasted Time
Wild time live [Incomprehensible] Yo big tune For Mr. B Aiyyo my eastside people let me hear yo I wanna hear you say yes I wanna hear you say yes Aiyyo
of time before till Wu-Syndicate lock shit How you stoppin, mega popular, modern mobster Joe Mafia, Jay got me in bicolulars {Myalansky} Yo snatch run, shoot
rock steady Run son the hour has come, touch ya Remember this, real niggas don't rhyme we walk up and buck ya Stuck ya in the head, rush ya Trife niggas
m on my way to Hugh Hefner's, dig? With a bitch you in the trenches tryin to reach it big (ah-ha!) On another rapper's dick who don't represent where