Lyrics:
to be tough,
And concentrate on living.
There you go.
And we'll all join hands,
And we'll all march along
And we'll all mark time as we go.
the wind
To make the earth go round
As I spin on my hand
As I’m stripping the hip hop game
Never done another dirty
But been done dirty by another
Some
himself
Stitched by Dapper Dan, oh man with the gun in hand
I leave your blood squirting
No offense, I'll put your face on the chest of a sweatshirt
told you motherfuckers bout fuckin' with us
Little misdemeanor poppin' pistols leave your body leaner
Vacate the scene, my killings be clean because I
the double pump
I'm Rambo, you're the jungle bunch
So you better damn know what is up
Let's eat at a Taco Bell
Give you a massage after, especially your back
Many many years ago when this land was young
A lot of our country was covered by big tall beautiful trees
And men had to have the trees to make
there and stare at me like hoes and sneer at me
Like it's supposed to be scarin' me
Like I won't leap clean over this fuckin' V.I.P. rope and throw this
this sadist revival, hand in hand
Lost in the city lights where dreams collide
A million faces passing by a kaleidoscope of life
Caught up in the rhythm
Written By: Keith Keahey
Recorded and Mixed at: Street Legal Studios, North Charles Street, Maryland
Music Engineer: Mark Carey of Street Legal Studios
If you know what's good
If you know what's good
Haters gon' say it's fake so real
Haters gon' say it's fake so real
I said, put your filthy hands all
If you know what's good
If you know what's good
Haters gon' say it's fake so real
Haters gon' say it's fake so real
I said, put your filthy hands all
'head and brush 'em
Without you around, I can't function
We gon' be together 'til the day we die
And when they put us in the ground we'll be side by
my v a t o s so am bout to roll em aye
You a snake bet you break but we fucking dolomite
Bout to cut a nigga clean with the coldest scythe
Said Don't
and daughters
You keep us protected in your hands
By the Law of Moses and the blood of the Lamb
Victory over the beast, and over his image, and over his mark
Don’t give a motherfuck!
I blame it on the government
Every president we ever had lied!
And my hand’s on the 16-shot
Semi-automatic crooked cop killing
come again
Pulling ya card before you play ya hand
It's one thing you need to understand
It's concrete even if I draw the line in sand
Give a fuck if you
You got something on your mind nigga?
Say dat then
Well let me say it without worrying if my label OK it
When Weapon Waist wildin' out, man give him
and where we be
But we ain't tripping, let's give' em a call
So they can cook for us and
Clean up after the dogs feel me
Called him up
Now you tell him he
On a stepbrother, I could give a fuck less
I will put my nuts on your drum set
Came in the game clean, I'ma leave it a mess
Funny thing is, I never tried my best
All
I want to give you the real me
Reaper with me like Billy and Mandy
Blood on my hands can’t clean em with sani
I do this S*** for my Family
Demons
rebuttals for real
Ya chick a thot, she lick the cock
Then gave scar to my man
Have four balls in her hand
She got jugglin' skills
But stop by ya spot
by the camp fire
I been in the sun check the tan line
Sticking niggas up got their hands high
Twisting up their tongue got their hands tied
Threatening
hands
And put our minds more at ease
Or get shot in the thyroid, comply or die, boy
We're fightin' a crime war, here come the swine
Tryna clean up
to rock, YOU!
We're the kings of swing
And we're chosen to rule
The deans of clean inside the cool school
We're the chiefs of relief
Contained by wild
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