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thing I gotta do is hit my wrist with the soda Niggas thought it was over, but bitch I live by the slogan I told you Hop in another one nigga Get
doors, shit we was straight out the back Sitting in a deer stand chewing Red Man up by the pack Them straight pipes on the five seven made us feel badass
Too high, can't come down Losing my head, spinning round and round Round and round round and round Back to the hoes Ridin' down 7-4th and Hoover
One more birth Can't keep count Yo that's 10-9-8-7 and 6 and 5-4-3-2 One more year that's one more down And one more birthday Can't keep count New
for me First the one And then came the two and three and four Five, six, seven, shots from a MAC-11 Platinum producer killed by haters Tonight
, not no trip I been countin' the racks, keep me out your midst Nigga can't hide in the house, cause 7.6 2 shoot through a brick Subs by
that shit We got toasters in the whip I got fiends at the door I be trapping like a bitch I got workers by the store They be packing thirty clips
"I'm comin'!" Now in ninety one, he wanna tax me I remember, the son of a bitch used to axe me And hang me by a rope till my neck snapped Now
enemies by any means (any means) If-if-if you get twenty years in the league, you still couldn't ball with us (no) Seven foot four, boy still ain't tall
niggas (word up) (One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine) Uh (Ten) I've been in this game for years, it made me an animal It's rules
niggas (word up) (One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine) Uh (Ten) I've been in this game for years, it made me an animal It's rules
a dollar For the trouble, or get blown up, like a bubble Let's take a sec to think back, the year of the seven-oh When Brooklyn was the place to go
eye Be careful my guy Your babe is a hoe in disguise You look so surprised You couldn't see the bitch in her eyes Oh love is blind,Shit I didn't
pan, fuck yo' man He don't want it with us killas With E-40 Skrilla, for real-a [Doc Doom] Bottle for the Wu years and I'ma hit the flow after
(ah…) Verso (7) Baby você falou que ia voltar Ah... Eu não consigo parar de te amar Chorus (3) Bad bitch full of lies Took me by surprise Hoped me
of the competition by light years, still right here Gimmie the light gimmie the light Fina spark dis L and get my mind right Its your worst day I always been in
the 'ven got racks in my pocket (bitch) Dirty ass hoes tried to dog me last year not knowing a nigga finna be a problem And them niggas shit them bogus ass
hood slippin', flatline time bitch, Optimals and fried pita and shit, Only enhances the chances of cowards gettin' they dome split, I roll with, killas
spittin' facts Couldn't relax, the whole time I had weight up on my back Be black gon back, I got pistols on deck They gave 'cause seven flat, how many
deff) Get money Ova flowin boss bitch what's up Don't give me a short summa I got the whole damn year Temp tag on Maserati is a boss bitch year You
straight Then put a couple glaciers on my wrist What more for you to get the gist You in the midst of living legends Get riches wit my brethren Pull up seven
year curse The lost disciples, bound, to the midst of the bottomless pit, trapped behind the gates of the wicked wilderness I hear the sound
Bipolar?" At another point, in "Burgundy, " There's a voice-over that asks "Why you so depressed and sad all The time like a little bitch?" How did your own
symphonies As soothing as a septet served by seven seraphs So solemn Sonorous and sincere Her sleek sound Slowly softens And serenades the senses Once
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