waste of your own time A fucking lost cause You complain about all the wrong you've done But the wrongs never stop Caught in a trap, can't get out
blew the lights out in my heart I'm feeling kinda bored so let's go charge up the car Let's all put on those trucker hats And head out to a bar We'll
the rain that fell in West Berlin was nothing like the rain that fell within out of sight and out of mind oh, Regine here am I so far away out of sight, out
my flow hit me (Hoooooooo!) X3 Stop fronting motherfucker let them thangs go If ya wondering the thunder and the trouble Is coming from the rebel as I hit ya from the lower level
Intro: Fuck 2Pac that nigga ain't shit that nigga ain't from muhfuckin' New York That nigga be out there with them Cali niggas Yo nigga man fuck Pac
toe ingrown low showin you ain't got nobody home Prone to the microphone, light up, and take out Make you your will Bill, three is gonna break out the
chest, yeah, I guess I gotta get it off I can never remember our lights, being turned off The look in your eyes, and nurture just like the sun rise Preppin' the table, to take it to another level
on your dick trying to disprove her expandability. 89. Releasing a Dove from a Ghetto Rooftop Holy Roman orgy, fondlers of the cloth. Catholic schools i.d. possible elementary level
Rice Pot Ah Bun, Feel Head Tuff Dan Cornmeal Weh Hunka The Chef Shotta Tun. Shoot To Yuh Head Is To The End When The Cop A Come. 45 Shot Clap Out, Breeze
so hard We might end three sheets to wind And who knows where we'll wind up All I know is there's a car waiting And we'll figure that out after I have
pushes down the hammer Hard to fire In the embrace of his gasoline lover Her sleek body wraps all around Turns on the radio, lights up his cigarette Takes the lights
Konvict Music, I know they want us to stop, But we immune to lose it, Hey, Hey, [Chorus:] I can't stop gettin this money now, Cause I'm out here livin
out - Pop the bottle, 'til we all pass out - Sip the skunk, 'til we all pass out - Drink it up, 'til we all pass out - Beat it up, 'til we all pass out
of uncut to the gut" [Verse 1:] I'm the type that'll keep my Nikes extra white Like seein' God's girls in fluorescent light Plug camcorder cords in
the door 3-point offense, defense level's high Stamina a hundred, leave your team ass dry [Tame] It's still our nature to hate ya play you out like
Cool disposition getcha, shows you new level Crazy, abrasive, enough to make me wanna taste To figure out what makes it tick So I can dig it out and break
[Music: Axel Rudi Pell] [Lyrics: Charlie Huhn / Axel Rudi Pell] Turning out the light, ready for some action my stick of dynamite, high level satisfaction