Lyrics:
Can get it off by tomorrow
It's wicked when my favorite uncle kick it
Fiends trying to kick the addiction
Of sucking glass dicks
Vivid images go against
the dooch powder
Summer's Eve, I drop degrees chill
Come four by four, lose one like Dru Hill
Stay fly till you air sick, now that's ill
Two choices,
Come four by four, lose one like Dru Hill
Stay fly 'til you air sick, now that's ill
Two choices, either squeeze or peel, now that's real
What
had no chance
Seven years, seven years
Your luck has passed
Seven years you never asked me out to dance
Asked me out to dance
(Dare me)
niggas
Who the fuck said we friends mayday!
Came in this mother fucker by myself
When I leave I'mma take some more niggas
Am allergic to them broke niggas
before
To see the idea clear it takes a year or more
Now times that by the years I reign straight-seven
No hear for four years still multiplied by
the last six years I've lived through terror
And in the darkened streets the pain
Oh, how I long to find some solace
In my mind I curse the strain
So
my business
Working 24/7, working restless
Haters what I eat for breakfast
Looking at the clock and it's 4 am
Later this year money cashing out the ATM
headed straight for the bottom
And now I'm better than I've ever been
Turned the page over bounced back
Almost seven years sober let me tell you
Had
alive
Cause niggas faces on them shirts
And it was televised
I know my bro facing them years
But I can't let it slide
And all pain inside my heart
Could
like magnets
Hollow grams what I'm smokin', shit's vicariously absent
I burned out the entertainment turned tragic
May be seven years I might disappear
But something told me, write this down and just speak from the heart
It's been fourteen years since I found you all alone in the dark
But losing you
1306 Studios
7 Days a week man
I work hard, 7 days a week
When the money calls, I don't get no sleep
Rolling in the car, smoking all my weed
Going
simply pathetic
The age of our house shows, it is starting to crumble
In a couple years this entire block will probably be rubble
I'm bailing water by
I passed by
Lord knows ion need another dui
Living in a city where you do or you fucking die
Both hands out the top I can touch the sky
Look at ya
for me
First the one
And then came the two and three and four
Five, six, seven, shots from a MAC-11
Platinum producer killed by haters
Tonight
in my pocket and at least a grand
Gold on my knuckle, my pistol's closed in hand
I'm a Dogg Pound Gangsta from the LBC
Remotely controlled by
coincidence or by happenstance, it's by design
By the year 2015
They gon' have 70% of our community locked up
I'm talking about blacks gonna be locked up
coincidence or by happenstance, it's by design
By the year 2015
They gon' have 70% of our community locked up
I'm talking about blacks gonna be locked up
Oh! Tell ya I got so disgusted now
Yeah
Said I'll go back home and sleep some more
Now that seem like the right thing to do
But by
Greenfield Lane
Written by: Jenn Lynn Jody
G
Chorus:
G
ct Greenfield Lane
G
So much has changed
G
c lot has stayed the same
cm7
Over the years
better believe this bitch is a g
Ten toes down
Nine in the Berkin
Credit eight, ya'll hungry I'm certain
Seven countries one year no twerkin
Bein fine
there
For seven years and seven days, I never thought I'd dare
To hang a noose up from the tracks, a sight beyond compare
I was a schoolboy once, you
to biz, you know I'm a diss them fast
So play like 98.7 and kiss my ass!
Cause me and rap is like peanut butter and jelly
Which reminds me of a song by
.png/286px-Ten_Years_After_(1970).png "Ten Years After")
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