're all alone, do you think about who you fool? It's all me, kid. But now, whos foolin' who? Never thought itd come back on you, but people like you, who
and square off who ever want's to throw it down I bring it to the showdown [Chorus: Montell Jordan] Follow me into the world of Mr Ski (Yeah) Ain't gonna be no mystery Who
your mothafuckin' Guns up I'm from the West Side where my niggaz run this up [Verse 2: Mr. Ski] This ain't rap dog, this is gangster I got the niggaz runnin' up
[2Pac] (hahhh, hahaha) Hehehe, word It's like all we got left - teardrops and closed caskets (throw it up fool, hey ni**a, haha) Tell me how you feel
to do But now I'm back with the blacks givin' it back to you Don't let 'em jack you up, back you up, crack you up and pimp slap you up You gotta learn
true over the years as an outlaw. Eh, Noble. What's up nigga. Would you die for me, nigga? Hell yeah. Would you kill for me? On my grandmother, nigga. Ah yo. What's up
causin' ruckus on the back of the bus I was a fool all through high school kickin' up dust But now I'm labelled as a trouble maker who can you blame?
for trying Sometimes I think my block is dying And that it's awful To wake up to another day, shit ain't change that all fool I wake up sweatin,
Sometimes I think my block is dying And that it's awful To wake up to another day, shit ain't change that all fool I wake up sweatin, dreamin, coughin
to do But now I'm back with the facts givin' it back to you Don't let 'em jack you up, back you up, crack you up and pimp smack you up You gotta learn
t weezin up, we heatin' up Ready for rush hour Throwin' up gas and powder Screamin' money and the power die Motherfucker, go try your luck up and fuck up
fuck with this Get it hype, get it crunk, get it buck up in this bitch Take no nigga Space Age Thug up in this shit Eightball, MJG we wuz up Up in this
nigga I keep my heat under the seat If a... bum run up hope he got his gun up From sundown to sunup I keep it with me And I end up be unloadin on y'all
This right here is for all the girls who i used to talk to who didn't amount to be shit in life. You know what im sayin? All the girls who used to
bodily functions when I speak I go deep, like when I'm stabbin it You comin up empty like your Mother Hubbard's cabinet Cause you keep comin wit rhymes guns
uproar made a nice comeback, but didn't touch my score A Farrakhan listener, white world prisoner My frisk down is just like the state pen for visitors Ghetto red hots, guns
