Lyrics:
feeling like a loaded gun
But I don't wanna let you go
Oh quick sand at my wits end and I know I've got no control
And eyes roll out while others sell my
Carryin guns to the studio. It's fucked up shit.
And y'know, you niggas
Can't communicate with people)
Aw fuck you, you punk ass motherfucker
What
body Gon fail I pop out at yo party niggas gon be drunk and high I know ima have fun I see a Nigga I don't like ima approach his ass wit my gun if
or die
When we ride on by cartel, street gangs by bail makes mail
Won't stop, I sell, I need to proceed
I can't cross what a nigga need with greed
be like
Walking a tight rope
So instead we let the balance beam
Now that we
Got this thing by the mic yo
It’s time to push back fallacies
How yo dreams
the incredible
D, Public Enemy number one
"Five-O" said, "Freeze!" and I got numb
Can I tell 'em that I really never had a gun?
But it's the wax that
ain't for fun, it ain't no exhibition game
Surrounded by cars and tommy guns
If that shit ain't legit better make a run
Ion care bout yo hoe we just
Cause it's like that, only way I know
How to play it, I'm all ready
Wanted by a triple murder by the Feds
So I'ma get me a brick, break it down to all
it anymore. Not in my name.
I'm not gonna sit by the side of the road,
Watch my sisters sell their souls.
But I don't believe all the things they
raised by the streets
And then the only other one that ever showed me love
Was my dope fiend uncle strung out on drugs
A straight thug, just me, my mama
can't GET IT
I'm TOO READY TO DO IT TO EM
TO MANY GUN OUT HERE GET PULLED
TO MANY SLUGDES OUT HERE GET BUST
LEAVE you're BRAIN MATTER BONE FRAGMENTS
ND
Raised by thugs, schooled by killers
I learned mathematics from big-time dealers
So now them busters love to
See a nigga falling cocked the Glock
LITTLE STAR
Essay on society
Bittersweet harmonies
Let 'em speak
Hollow
Little Star, tell me where you are
Harmonies
Take a gun and shoot yourself
foolin' yourself
Crime rules the streets, who the hell else
All the police have gone out to play
Because for enough cold cash they'll look the other way
back
I'm from where a bitch a kill you and they all trap
Mall bags getting made by the Reynold's rap
Everybody puttin orders in watch em bring it back
and soul, where only facts are kept
Many rappers sell-out pop and other MC's slept
I ain't in no playin mood, so nigga watch your step
Cause if you cross
boy is lame I know that he actin'
Bitch yeah I move like Deebo
Yeah I shoot free throw
You a chip Dorito
Yeah I sell by the kilo
Just like City Girls
would rather burn in hell
Than to give my soul to sell
The pressure builds
I'm only hanging by a thread
It's like I've got a gun to my head
I'm
in my ride by myself, I got my Glock out
And as soon as some shit pop off I'm gone rock out (you know that, nigga)
I'm gon' get high by myself, I'm
And get brain but not the same
Brain she be thinking with
Banger by my pancreas if a
Nigga think he slick
I'll blow his brain out now
He can't think of shit
a fiend fuckin' little Raheem
Damn, drugs will make you do terrible things
He told me when he get out he's murdering by any means
The day came I saw him
a fiend fuckin' little Raheem
Damn, drugs will make you do terrible things
He told me when he get out he's murdering by any means
The day came I saw him
talkin' Talcum
Waitin' by the window with a gun like Malcolm
X, money, cars, whores, sex, blades, knives, pumps, techs
Trap boom with my trap bum
Turn
lad
Nobody thought he make it up outta the hood, before the gun blast (Gun blast)
'Cause Johnny wanted to be a thug
Runnin' from cops out
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