Lyrics:
to me?"
I said, "Is pig what's in pork?
Or you gonna play hard
After all the trouble you went through to get chosen?"
She said, ah, "No compute."
bars? Penitentiary (Facts!)
Ain't got no time for no rap beef (No)
I'm grown, you still wearing nappies (Uh)
Got the loud and the mud by the fanny (Blow!)
Never give up that's all I know
Never give up
Never give up that's all I knowww
Never give up that's all I know
Never fold up like I'm jay Jones
I
rifle
And popped every last one of them sons of bitches
Motivated like a mother by the riches, but no glitches
Got to the door, which is the right button
they deal, if you will
Is legitimate and that other line
I mentioned refers to "E, " Emory Jones
His an associate who served roughly ten
Years with
It get's better by change)
I don't give a fuck about no gossip, they whispering who's better
Man I'm at these niggas throats, and that shit goes for
Uh huh
Jones
Dipset
Birdgang b*tch
You know what it is
When you see me two twelvin' you homie
You f**k n*ggas keep triple ninin', have some integrity
got to be there by nine.
Pin stripe suit, clean shirt and tie,
Stops off at the corner shop, to buy The Times
'Good Morning Smithers-Jones'
'How's
a whole lotta +cheese+ at +steak+, the beef killed it
I'm about to blaze, bungee jump off a building with no rope
The Game ain't no joke
That Bruce Wayne
a whole lotta +cheese+ at +steak+, the beef killed it
I'm about to blaze, bungee jump off a building with no rope
The Game ain't no joke
That Bruce Wayne
is no facade
Okay, damn well shit I lied
I ain't got me no garage
My bitch bad, she light skin, her eyes slant like she Japanese
Young king like I
in the club tryin to duck us (WHAT?)
And if you walk by nigga, I'ma knock fire nigga
from yo' ass, you can come try nigga (HEY!)
In the hood, all
a bengal
No tussling you’ll get mangled
My cousin use to light candles
And pray for me by her mantel
Cause I done seen my life dangle
With the devil I
[Intro: Jim Jones]
Uh-huh, Jones, one-two, one-two
G's up, you know who I am, Jones, the struggle
New York's mine
[Jim Jones:]
Can it be it was all
a number
Add it on up to twenty-five
The joke is on you, I'm still fucking alive
Had to drive by with the beat tape up in my mind
And combined with
touched? What
You're fearing is rejection
I guess when you're in
Competition with a boss
You're left in the dust
What you're smelling is exhaust
Self paid
if there was no Preme
There was no cat
And the game was run by Prince and run by Pat
It's the killa season
Who the fuck need a reason
These faggot
gone
Tearin' down the 'jects creatin' plush homes
My circumstance is between Cabrini and Love Jones
Surrounded by hate, yet I love home
Ask my guy
say
Ask them niggas in your camp is you hotter than J. A
D.A.K.I. two S's
A true message
Y'all better wear a few vests
Live pussies
'Bout to be
possibly say
Ask them niggas in your camp is you hotter than
J A D A K I two Ss?
A true message, y'all better wear a few vests
Live pussies 'bout to be dead
cause he be God? Oh no
G-o-d, I be not he, it's true, don't call me loco
And my man Eric the Wiz will stir the mini mix up like Coco
Cut like Michael
to
The kenwood speakers as they jam out those old school tunes
Well george jones could but i cant stop loving you
By the way you look tonight
Well shes the three
Doing dirty work but the whips clean
Notice the Jones's
All of what they have is for the showing even notices on doors or for closures
I'm trying
By Joe Thomas & Howard Biggs
This is Eric Clapton's version
I've got you on my mind, I'm feeling kind of sad and low,
I've got you on my mind,
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