Testi:
Left For Dead Pulling Teeth

gold teeth, so everywhere I go b*thces strike up conversations with me. About the way I talk, about the way I dress, About how my gold teeth look so fresh

twenty-three blazed all in yo chest Brain waves you dazed up You see death stare you straight in your face Get waked up cause I left ya stretch for the hurse I take no chance for

ain't a Visual Soprano can't handle her, cause she's gangsta (*humming*) [Chamillionaire] She cocks it back and pull and shoot, cause she can see I'm pulling

die for the same ol' conclusion Put they life on the line so some other pimp could use 'em Pulled into a vacant lot, the road to recovery Pulled out

for raggedy, dogmatically Financially money's the mission Motive the means, bodies for fishin Intuition got me trapped like Quadafi erasin your posse for a hobby Dead

t got nothin left instead of blamming the bitch, he needs to blame it on himself it wouldn't be hoe, if it wasn't for the tricks but I suggest we keep

pulling teeth Until your words catch up with you, just wait and see Wait for the things you do to follow you around Wait for the things you say to bring

nigga trippin at all Yo, I'm fuckin walkin over weak rapper's downfalls It ain't my fault they fell, it ain't my fault I sell I pull my ass up from the

bad news Battle me and lose, you win a pair of shoes Made of concrete, there's somethin sweet about that To match your dead man suit and your dead man