Lyrics:
tour and you callin' her road rat
We comin' to pro cat chicks with' mo' fat on yo' back
Feelin' the drillin' after my show cracks
[Chorus]
Call
get a loud
Cause Jeff wants to (rock right now)
Peep the boy get swift, he got the gift
To lift, with just turntables and (rock) with
After a battle
Now these doors don't open til after dark
And it ain't til twelve 'til the party really starts
(Yo me and my crew had to be in by ten
Right
see you already out the door
You won't be home till after 4, won't probably stop at Calico's
Pull up on the parking lot, and by this time it's dark
(damn)
Then b popped (damn)
Then me rocked (what?)
Yeah, but we shooting back I'm pulling out the 4-5th
If I ain't get 'em yet, believe they name is
he gon take somethin' lil'
Bitch you got me fucked up, yea
Bitch you look crazy, I'mma cut up
You play bitch, we gon' nut up
The choppa in a 4 by 4
Yo, it's simple murder but not incorparated
Homicide musically orchestrated big Syke
The government don't know that name I go by
I'm so high pit
Thank God 4 the boulevard
They keep the motor runnin'
The rap shows coincide wit' the tape flow
Bootleggers go inside and record the record low
They
something
Look homey, it's the bloody sweepstakes
Glove club you down in the club, how you like that, sweet cakes?
[Trife Da God]
Yo, it was a minute after
Make all the ladies say (ooh, ooh baby)
You can't knock the hustle, not at all (no, no, no, no)
Can't be budged by your muscle (no, no, no, no)
Never
say I'm wrong
I ain't really seen land in a minute
AWOL spaceman, wave to the Mrs
Faint transmission after nothing
For the summer
I have never seen so
Do With You?
Wasn't Our Dream A Dream For Two?
After All That You Put Me Through?
What Is The Truth, Don't Tell Me Lies
Am I A Devil In Disguise?
I
the third World War
So I can start World War 4 and murder us all
I don't give a fuck if you rich or you poor
Don't give a fuck if you got ya' picture in
eatin chips
Sittin on the porch by our house, leavin something in a stash
How do we outlast? Always keep cash
[Spice 1 - Verse 4]
Sittin on the scene,
(maybe I deserve)
(Maybe I deserve)
(Maybe I deserve)
Maybe I should sit and wait by the phone, uh (maybe I deserve)
'Cause I paged you about 3 or 4
(yeah)
After every round with a blade I chop (yeah, yeah)
Three quarters a box and I'm whippin' the rock
Straight drop 'til the yola locks (yeah, yeah,
curves
She had me thinking perverted, there's no worries
I light the blunt at 4:20 and save the world by 4:30
So many did your boy dirty, but I ain't
Ima ima artist in the game so how could you sleep
Pulling up with them two by fours while im six deep
When it comes to you spitting i don't wanna
me (huh?)
Still can't cover up the fact
Your last four albums is as bad as your selfie
Now tell me, what do you stand for? (what?)
I know you can't
the evil land/
Bringing the war and the hate
God will look after my soul/
But my sword will guard my fate
Terror and destruction/
Brought by the four
the crack scene with seventeen in my magazine
Illegitimate Ritalin look its baby Ben
Life hanging by the thread of his foreskin
The morphine got me numb now
Here I am, after so many years
Hounded by hatred and trapped by fear
I'm in a box, I've got no place to go
If I follow my mind, I know I'll
Sorry, lil' mama, I gotta go
Not tryna' hit and run ya but I got another show
It's already check out time plus my plane leaves at four
Give me them
Jimmy Swaggart
I could watch him sing gospels all day
But anyhow, after Psalm 4, the silver staff band
He said, "Please change this, I can't take it
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