Lyrics:
the Bahamas,
Crops of marijuana protected by Big Timers,
Hand, full of ice, it's gangsta's paradise,
Expensive merchandise, I had to sacrifice for
it twilight
Weird hoe trapped by the moonlight
Mosh in a pit
Loose your shit
Fuck that shit
Tell your n**** suck a dick
Insomniac straight from my
I brought that genuine shit in '96
Before you knew the underground or independent existed
I watched the whole scene straight jump on the dick
Whipping that Boss shit
Spitting that Raw Shit
Haters be looking like aww shit
I run it up like cross fit watch this
I check back in to run up
The Art of War
The Art of War
Art of War
The Art of War
I had to play this shit in life called Art of War
Art of War
The Art of War
The Art of War
"This shit is garbage"
God's given me all this
Still I feel no different regardless
Kids look to me like as a God, this is retarded
If only they knew,
just get left
First 48, watch he tell on himself
First 48, watch he tell on himself
And that shit right there, keep me right by myself
And that shit
tangeray and hennesey,
untill i call earl, 10 months in this gut, wut the fuck,
i wish moms would hurry up, so i can get buck wild,
juvenile with the mics n
So I'm gon' retire in a Lambo like Favre did
Ah shit, news flash dummy, I'm actin' juvenile, that new Cash Money (yeah)
It's buck, buck, buck, if
is born, I been doing this too long
To let you newborn thugs try
To come on strong
Since a juvenile I been making streets hot
While I was runnin' from
And now a word from out local sponsor
[Beth Melillo Speaks]
Gun possession is a hazardous war affecting children in their homes and schools
Eight
the war is on
Break a bitch shoot a snitch
Fuck a trick get your grip
Smoke some dank pass some drank
And get off into this gangsta shit
Laying fools
a bitch hit a switch
Gangstas drop that gangsta shit
I'm a G, DPG, DPGC, O.G. DP
Ride on niggas blast on niggas
Dip and put the smash in niggas
It's a war
Rolling thru the streets on Nimbus
Playing tug of war long winded home grown scented
Bigger image on the paper I printed tryna take it from me
Homie
Look, they say tomorrow's not promised, but if it was I wouldn't get open
Wouldn't get suits, them shits was made to be broken
Remember coming up,
Something about it, man
Same song and dance
In the pale moonlight (yo)
I'm looking at ya, yeah, girl, you're kinda tooken back by
The whole rapper
Lord please forgive me,
See we been living life like a juvenile
Pants hanging down
Bangin’ anger sound
With a ruthless style
Slingin’ pounds around
back to benny row
Bitches in my kitchen with the semi's on the floor
All I know I want him dead by tonight
With his head in his lap and his body
I'm good, best shape of my life
One shot from big shit a blow you out of ya Nikes
Only a dick head wouldn't want to be rich
And do his car like
The street lamps are broke now
Mad bitches to bone now
When niggas peep your home out
And flip when they zoned out
Thugs bringing the street war
Bust
on any punk ass nigga or bitch
The little brown skin buddha sucker little motherfucker
I dwell in Juvenile Hell (yea yea)
I got the shit that
the lord
Even if it's right or wrong know I'm ready for war
Who ready for war
I'm born ready
Shit we at war already
Children of the corn we in the maze
unintentional malice
Want to battle one of us is endin up in God's palace
Doubt my shit's Official the Megatron missile
Bio computer virus with flesh
a sucker talk shit, I had to get retarded
Paranoid as fuck so my life changed
Went to school, kid, now I'm selling cocaine
I'm like a Porshe moving fast in
.jpg/237px-Juvenile(rapper).jpg "Juvenile")
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