Lyrics:
held down my block for real
All I do is crack rock and how to pop the steel
How to box niggas in where they can barely move
Roll wit straight thugs
I feel the Aryan in my blood, it's scarier than a Blood
Been looking for holy water, now I'm praying for a flood
It feel like time passing me by
UNDERGROUND DUMPS (right near the 'Jack-In-The-Box' on Glenoaks) where they keep the POOLS OF OLD POISON GAS, and OBSOLETE GERM BOMBS, just as a FREAK TORNADO
the greatest all time?
Where them niggas reside?
I seen all fifty names
Man them niggas done lied
I take the first forty-eight
Make them niggas retire
Last two
Inside with the jokes
My rhymes is fire like Hendrix's guitar
My favorite album by Blink is probably Boxcar
I'm a corporation that pays it's taxes
I'm
'em out the box
I got a rhyme to wake, you're sloppin' up and down the blocks
There never was a time when I was down to meetin' by myself
When all
the time, and I just wanna shout,
I get so troubled by my purpose; what's it all about?
Got no time for fake friends, please, keep it real
They said "cheques
people with the
Same initiative at the same time, to, like
Bring cool shit back and make
It the shit again!
Modeliste: So going to your music
Where do you
dumb pride for sin
They had their son set
Never to see their son rise again
And I'm exhausted
I know you take pride in where you're from
But to murder
Niggas only need prayer in church
Fresh to death red carpet hearse
If Pimp C was the host
If BMF had a set
And the realest in these streets award goes
where we belong
As the sun sets, painting colors in the sky
Our love shines brighter as time goes by
Like a summer's breeze, your touch sets me free,
riding with firearms cocked
Fire bomb box, set up by your mom's block
Go off on time, 'cause it's wired by alarm clock
I get his legs, you grab him by
Christmas
It's kinda late but here is my wishlist
Santy I don't want candy
Not even vacay where I'd be walking on Sandy
Naw not beach but rest In peace
riding with firearms cocked
Fire bomb box, set up by your mom's block
Go off on time, 'cause it's wired by alarm clock
I get his legs, you grab him by
love it when it goes round and round
Keep adding things to that set
When I put it up every Christmas, time?
Take it down in the spring
Little trains are
Stevie see the love game is an mind fuck
These keys belong in the pine box
More pain to pupils seeing I dropped
While tied to you and an time clock
No, my brother, you've got to buy your own
Yeah
Yeah, woo
Yo, it's like the box sets
Star Wars, Fast and Furious franchises
Six projects, six
the purpose of doing all this talking
Summer '88, or was it '89
Or was it winter-time, ah, nevermind
I'm in my room, boomin' drawin' LL Cool J album covers
December 24th. I wonder if my Lola knew that when she named my mom, I seem to find Christmas clues in my life all the time. There isn't a day that goes by
attending pottery class at community college
For eight straight weekends by myself
So I am eating a box of Hot Tamales candy, which proclaims it's America's
just waiting for the baton
Got my masters in English
So I may resort to Latin
By the time you hear time
I'll be past gear six
And if they ain't dead
from the norms
And soon millions of folk
Records were being sold
By the early sixties, Dylan, Baez, Phil Ochs
Were doing intellectualized copies
already gone mad, blames himself for his setbacks
Dangerous street corners where his sets at
Sling from dusk till dawn, detectives act like they maniacs
That go to show this ass
Kicking ain't gon bother nigga
Cause it's right back where
You started nigga
Being a son of a Harlem nigga
Now you was made by
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