Lyrics:
in one do tour make 'em sick with no cure,
As she sits by da bar she sips cristy,
In the mist of da party,
They bump hits by J.D.,
Da B-R-A-T, we
picture god eaten by gray dogs
He stayed in his world
And he sidely sweard
To tell the truth, that DeVon was like
"Your out of cure boo"
Wisegod Allah,
Love passed us by
Before the chance was asked to take
We had to hide behind the vows we couldn't break
More than just friends
But to others we
I heard your album and I don't believe a word of it
I think you're soft like that trick, Mother Hubbard
Fillin' the cupboard with gang goods
Like
now we got mobile phones
Me and my homies used to battle at the park
We had to be back on our street by the time it got dark
We used to wear cross
crowds
As torturas - the tortures (in the 60's, a lot of people were tortured and killed by the government)
De longe vem a forte chuva - from far comes
pumpin' 93 say, "What's up
Church?" when I ride by in
That blacked out Ford GT
They write me stuff in my PO
Tell me 'bout their broken homes
Tell me 'bout
on to perform storms blew up
Wu's up, causin the crowd to self-destruct
Killer bees are stingin somethin while I reveal
Science, that's heavily guarded by
on to perform storms blew up
Wu's up, causin the crowd to self-destruct
Killer bees are stingin somethin while I reveal
Science, that's heavily guarded by
government for the people, by the people'
What people? We ain't equal
Discriminated against for race, religion, education
And you call this a nation?
I'm
Happy holidays
Let me come here and talk to you
I gotta stop sayin' I'm not doin' this shit no more knowin' I'm cappin'
(Great John on the beat by
when the rents due
Yet thankless if things do improve
And nobodies moved by what you’ve been through
It's all about the groove the publics into
We was
dance like if I was Albert Alien
People just love it when the Biz starts to play
With my (beatboxing), and by the way
Skeezing with a girl is
the fuck up, nigga?)
Turn
Nobody don't wanna cry no more (no)
I seen years go by, but bine been flyin' more (yeah)
Sometimes you gotta lose the battle
Order now before the sounds of sexy soul get away
Hey y'all, I got a great new album in the mail today
Finer thangs, hoes like (Yeah) dough
thugs from the R-O-C
Sigel Sigel in the house
Uh-huh, sick bastard
Get your wig pushed back by the wig push-backer
Uhh, uhh, Memph Bleek in
from the R-O-C
Sigel Sigel in the house
Uh-huh, sick bastard
Get your wig pushed back by the wig push-backer
uh, uh, Memph Bleek in the house
production's tight
Sometimes I might catch a severe case of writer's block
But by the end of the day you'll be on my jock
My name's Malik my hobby's putting
thugs from the R-O-C
Sigel Sigel in the house
Uh-huh, sick bastard
Get your wig pushed back by the wig push-backer
Uhh, uhh, Memph Bleek in
But I gotta learn in order to teach
Then I gotta burn in order to reach
My niggaz
Yo, I see what I see day by day
Hoping that the Lord will pave
I just bagged a half a brick by eye
Now I'm just twiddling my thumbs
Jakes try question me about a headshot bro
I was sitting in the sun
I was
Wouldn't be where I'm standing if they hadn't have fought for me,
From a nothing rep, now we live busting sets,
So if you own a Hoods album you get nuff
only time will tell, but until then I'll be stackin' my mail
by album album sells, Magnolia wear dwells
I love them bricks, I love the ghetto hoes
'cause
eyes closed, hands up, dancing by myself|Oh, I never felt nothing better|Baby how could I know you'd come rushing down from Heaven|Now my heart is open
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