Lyrics:
the poor
And after all you can say you saw
Cypress Hill, stompin once more
I play it by ear, I love to steer
The fifty-seven Bel Air from here to there
age
A young nigga who lived in a rage died by the gage
He used to hustle on the street corners
His mom would always beg him to quit, but he didn't
an early age
A young nigga who lived in a rage died by the gauge
He used to hustle on the street corners
His mom would always beg him to quit, but he
Big Daddy Kane catch a vibe/
I was raised by the Rap Gods/ raised by the rap gods
I was Raised by the Rap Gods/ raised by the rap gods
Prodigy, Guru,
him he wants to be free
He's got no one trying to help him or to save me
Raised by family but not his mom
Bobby at a young age was banished to Guam
Watchin the pimps roll by in they fancy cars
But never did the thought even pass
At the time, he 'posed to have his behind in class
So when report cards
dead again
Tell the Aryans I'm burying my head right in his belly
And it's scary 'cause I'm licking his mustache
(Verse 7: Sid of Slipknot)
Son
[Rich Nice]
The following previews have been approved for all audiences
by the Committee For Audiovisual Sound
*sounds of traffic*
On the mean
Nine died,
Ate two seven,
Equal eight,
Who tryna get six next?
Tryna skip the full album
335,
That’s another dead man,
Two shots to his dome,
They say
This is my toxic reality I had
To get it right off of the block
I gotta schedule i'm up and i'm
Trapping this bread by seven
O'clock people don't
God...
Darkened by the wealth
He let his own people die
On the banks of a murderous river
He made deception his own strength
And his sword reaped dead
albums since
1976 step it up! Alright? Damn
Jimi Hendrix is
Dead and he puts out three a year
For God's sake
I read an article somewhere that that feller
should be dead!
I've got seven stitches in my head
I've got seven stitches in my head
He's got seven stitches
I should be dead!
should be dead!
I've got seven stitches in my head
I've got seven stitches in my head
He's got seven stitches
I should be dead!
rapper about to blow
But his album came, and it was not good
I think it went lead or double copper-wood
So the silly little fans, they were misled
By
up
By those others, their brethren and fellow servants
Who were to die as they had died
Then, in my vision, he broke the sixth seal
And with that
burn in the fire
Ya’ll some burnouts like you stuck and turning the tire
Keep my ear to God, you know that the servants a liar
BITCH
It’s like poker
this (damn-damn-damn)
Don't-don't drop my shit (Notti), damn, he tried to dip but he tripped (Notti)
Beef ain't dead 'til he dead in my spliff (Notti),
to a very thick tree route.
The champion and his caddy talk it over.
He;s going to play it safe and punch out with a 7 iron
with a 8 stroke lead this is
Falling brick by brick
'Til one day it clicked
He should go back to his father
And work as a servant for him
Confess that he has sinned
Lost and Found
my interviews
They don't want to see me on channel 7 news, tellin the truth
Off the project roof, they always have secret spies with eyes
Watchin me
nations
Take me to my dead Christ!
And shall fall by the edge of the sword
And shall fall by the edge of the sword
Take me to my dead Christ!
Then all men
listeners relate
Let's put the beat back in, 6, 7, 8
This is the end of Opportunities
1 album, 2 album, is there a 3rd please
This bitch is going off again
a single hand
I got 50 songs so imma name the album many men
The way I see it I get rich or die trying
Get it by any means so best believe that I'm eyeing
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