I couldn't push away If this is what you need to get off, I'd hate to see what's next for you Are you disgusted with yourself? She'd have you slaughtered and hope you burn in hell You
couldn't push away If this is what you need to get off, I'd hate to see what's next for you Are you disgusted with yourself? She'd have you slaughtered and hope you burn in hell You
we got left - teardrops and closed caskets (throw it up fool, hey ni**a, haha) Tell me how you feel homey (Yeah, it took a week to go down) You recollects
t no nigga badder, .357 put that ass on the mat Execution, I'll be shootin' while you runnin' off at your mouth You plot me cause you watch me, watch
done Two minimum misdemeanor for a small handgun It's a buddha, but you know, that shit ain't real For my brothers locked down y'know I know how you feel
t fix Cause we can do, it in the mix So when you niggaz talk trash, you can get a bust ass Cause you know we don't fuck around When you niggaz talk shit
'm Wizard, you "Oz" worn You think you mackin, who you think they put Tosh on? The pit is tight, you mosh on Spit 'til you turn bitter, talk 'til you
cheek carries a brand, history's mark on a perfect face to tell the tale of a plot gone awry. Hands travel to ears, small, petite, stone embedded in each
long fabled Judecca A sanctuary for sin... To rival Heaven Free of Eden's tragic wreck (Though the only Angels in repose Were those with ivy strangled necks) Small
Who don't show love with all you sun and your thun Cause they know where you from, You from Oakland, you rich and you ain't from the slums Your pops
seltzer plot plot, biz biz, no is no friends now I got some doe doe, need you no more (what a relief it is) many muthafuckaz wasn't down from the start so what you
50 Cent, 2Pac) Sometimes you just feel tired, feel weak When you feel weak, you feel like you just wanna just give up But you gotta search within you
Raw, you talkin' hard, but you ain't harsh fellow Cause deep down you're soft as a fuckin' marsh mellow The Cig stay blazin' the weapon she stroke You claim you
Put yo' face on a fresh tee sendin' that ass to the morgue Better be cool if you don't, that's all on you. [Bullet Proof:] 16 worth a mill my whole clique
massages You need us, to roll mo' Cruise to homogenus You didn't list where you from, we Madinas You niggas speak on dough with no conception of what
