Lyrics:
boy
On the outskirts, of what works
Live those who go for broke, and merk to get merked
Live by the sword and die by the semi
Not part of my ways, but
on MD's, recoupin' ya liver
Shoutin' my name
Ya best to control the noise soldier boy
Or homicide will be all over you poys with Polaroids
(Die slow)
Yeah,
please take your aim at me
Cherish the thought
Of always having you here by my side
Cherish the joy
You keep bringing it into my life
Cherish your
to say
The homies talkin' about I feel they
Seem to be raisin' hell
My mom is bitchin' cause I'm in
And out of every jail
Feel like the way that's how
My
retort
To any accusations y'all bring forth, my last resort
Will be apostasy
Indignantly insisting what I did was never wrong to me
Let's think about this
beware; my friends will find your weak points (then what)
Get up in there.
Attack your mind, with a fine line when I find time
And I'll find out that you're
faking statistics
These niggas be leaving they lipstick
On top of my dick tip
Pussy I whiff it from miles away
I will never work with niggas that do
on the eastside
All the way out to the west side
I be right there by your side
Your side your side
Your side
Yo I don't even think
You're always on my mind
I can
the clay on top of your pedestal
And you can be my Patrick Swayze
Though I know you don't get that reference yet
(But soon you will)
I was stuck in
don't know my name
Unless you're a celebrity it's okay
But it's vital you learn how to treat your boy right
Or guess what? My bitch ass will show up
boy
Or homicide will be all over you poys with Polaroids
(CONVO 2)
("Die Slow" through out the convo)
Yea, yo that nigga Journalist gets busy yo
got ill and went out in a body bag)
Fear will erupt through the heart of another
The Farmers Crew will never fall, that's word to the mother
Yo, yo
Alamo with the A, Ron Stud!
And my man Ep Rock
X, kick the flavor for me on this one
'Cause we gettin' ready to be out of here in a, sec
Wild, New
open my mouth shit that's the sound
They go "Brra-Tat-Tat" so you betta watch out
Ouch!
[Rick Ross]
Bitch I got money too
"Trilla" album comin' soon
2 Live
Corrupted politicians playing games
Bringing us down to boost their fame
They must be joking, thinking we will fall
But they're like flies
each other
This has always been my escape
There will be nothin' else, music speaks like no other
Pumpin' music more than any other
(Whoa, Whoa)
(Whoa,
degrees
I'm on my sub zero shit I be letting it breeze
Just made my album in a week I did that shit with ease
No weapon you form against me will ever
Red and White
Red and White
You Will See
Fight Fight Fight
These bitches want me to go to homecoming
But bitch I'd rather be home, cumming
Drop
bands if you ask for a feat
But that's the only narrative the people will see
It's not imperative whose side they believe
Cause I count my own pockets,
the block was freezing
My socks had Ps in, legit
I forgot the meaning
Pricks wanna stop me eating
Stop me breathing but I will not be beaten
So what if it
a publicity stunt? This should be fun
Last album now 'cause after this you'll be officially done
Eminem killed by Eminem
Matthew Mitchell, bi-, I even have
of saliva
My knife is out and I'm ducking on the side of your house
See, it's sad it came to this point
Such a disappointment I had to make this
Cashis
Mixtape was a classic
Ep is a classic
LP is that shit
Dark park
Money and all
But much more
Told me go all out
Serve 'em all homeboy
I'm
"Brra-Tat-Tat" so you betta watch out
Ouch!
Bitch I got money too
"Trilla" album comin' soon
Triple C's, 305, B-O-E give us room
Whip the keys
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