Lyrics:
Starin' at the world through my rearview
Just lookin' back at the world
From another level, ya know what I mean?
Starin'
Multiple gunshots
the weed or pussy, I read books
I'm liable to mate'cha king with three rooks
You see the Wu W raised in black fists
Maybe Tony Touch, Concord needle will
spirit
Guess who's back to attack the wack rap
In fact, we here to unpack all the bags of the seeds
No flax, but indeed to attract the black and brown
drop the tag,
Yeah, her nickname Nina
She like black, she like white, swallow balls like FIFA
Yeah, they in and they out like it's nice to meet ya
She
And bragging nearly every time you open your mouth
You think you'll gets the women success will turn your head
Well I'm sorry to inform you that stuff is dead
Shit get your suit black
And your casket grave
Pick up a brick and then bash your face
Catch you with your kid
They'll get snatched away you screamin'
for props, tell your pops call the cops
See now I'm on the run, but still havin' fun
Livin' by the MAC, my gear is all black
I keep killin', because
for props, tell your pops call the cops
See now I'm on the run, but still havin' fun
Livin' by the MAC, my gear is all black
I keep killin', because
first thought was how ya moms doin
Now you almost almost free
Your 20 year old little bro just caught shooting
For real black that's the shit to water
couldn't FUCK with the Smith and Wess'
Motherfuckers runnin for miles, bodies stacked up in piles
I'm killin executioner style
Comin straight off
walked into my dreams.
I dreamt of being white and
Complimented by you, but the only shiny black thing that you liked was my shoes.
Now, I apologize
money
You might reinstate the draft and I'm gettin bummy
So I clear my head by goin testin testin one two testin
And countin my blessings
And pray for
still front
When will they realize, I got the feel again
The mighty mad writer's comin' real again
Buck buck, biiinnng
That's the motherfuckin' sound
of my dreams
Player now listen lotta blacks locked down
But comin' back around in '96
All I gots is my six
My track crew and my mother
Make these police
rhymes
Cause I'm knee deep in the beats
In the Land Cruiser Jeep with
The MAC-10 by the seats for the jackers
The jealous-ass crackers in the blue suit's
a 90's group
Old kiss ill put a bald head in ya shiny suit
I dont give a fuck what a hater say
Cuz honestly im the best nigga spade of spade
I used to get
lane
Put ya hands up, bop ya head right now
Put ya hands up, bop ya head right now
Put ya hands up, bop ya head right now
Put ya hands up, bop ya head
stuck at sea
But I've been the one drowning lately
Mainly from daily pressure comin' in, tryna attack them head on bravely
Rarely seen these Spiders
And run over niggas like opossums
Froze on the road with my bike on they cornea
Man I'm warning ya, look, the Black Eyed Peas is formin' up
Ring around
like that nigga?
What the fuck I got to do not to get banged up by that trigga?
Cause in the projects, ain't no love
Niggaz will split yo wig cause they
wanna flash them
Thats the way to get stuck like a fucking cactus
In some ways your bitch reminds me of a vaccume
Make her head nod back and forth like
head for the hills, I kills niggaz for thrills
'Causin' crazy blood spill, when I let one drill in your grill
I will pull out the glock to clear
?
Let's see if he can be ya savior
When I cave ya chest in with me murder weapon
They can't find out Smith and Wesson
Only glocks and street machines with
Black Thought, yo, the skill assisted
By the Mal-ik B
The symbol you remember me to be type valid
Disastrous, the master just bust
This for the listener
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