Lyrics:
of thick smoke
Funny, right? Ha ha, this shit's jokes
I got the idea from a
Letter that the shit wrote
Hey, you right there
In that pretty red dress, let's
we dipping again
Kept my ear to the streets, signed Eminem
He's triple platinum, doing 50 a week
Still, I stay close to the heat
And even when I was
the Civic sellin mad weight
Outta state and shit, I can't wait til this record shit is straight
So we can recuperate, get the dough and I'm gone
the chronic (?) and smashes of gun smoke.
For this box Regal to Martinis (?) sippers on a do low
3 time felons, double eye for [strinkin' pulo (?)], you know
Bell shot 50 times they thought they'd get away
This is my hood
Q-U-E-E-N-S
From Sunny Side to the Gardens
Elmhurst and all the rest
Italian Ices' crazy
Came in this motherfucker banger dancin'
Fifty thou' on me, that was nothin' fancy
Bad lil' bitch just called me handsome
She don't know I rob niggas
a big ass lesson we all go through
Friends you was close to all of a sudden want to smoke you
They all deceitful; I got shot up by a nigga I knew since
[ INTRO ]
Gyeah
We're on this smooth shit
Takin you back to the old school (westside)
Gyeah
Hoo-Bangin in the house
And right about now
We got
from everything
I keep guns everywhere I go, where I go
Bitch, I'm posted by the store, by the store
How it go, how it go
In them trenches know this shit
sickest
For every hit you made, more rappers afraid to come out
"Machine Gun Funk", from Queens I came through to smoke blunts
You came to my hood, we
triples please circle the violence
Let me abolish this sh... like Nat Turner
Drop by Tom Warner, peace to my crooked cop killers
with the six
The thermometer ran out of numbers
When it reached fifty degrees
I just lay down on the floor
With a bag of frozen peas
We saw plumes of smoke
Breeze through in the Q, .45 by my side, lyrical high
And those that rushes my clutches get put on crutches
Get smoked like Dutches from the master
Hate
of envy
Baby I built this shit off filthy
If all goes right this'll kill me
Been living off hype, bitch gimme that light
By the don't smoke sign like bill
Look, trappers
Every day man's after the P's like nothin' else matters
Had a toolbox with a hundred nails and two fat hammers
Roll and smoke with
That's right mothafuckas
Knightowl's back with some of that violent shit
With my boy Lil' One up in this mothafuckin house
Chris Gun up in this
retrieving his Ass was like fifty two pick up
I'm a wonderful magician asleep full of tricks and then
*poof* gone in a minute divided by sixty
That's a snap
and
The rage. Drop this, drop this. If you're tripping, drop it like suspension. Drop it on me quickly
Drop it like S. Fuego building a foundation, and I'm
jack
This where my heart at, uh
Fell in love with carbon, uh
I don't like nothing
So the racks by my pocket lil' puffy
No, she don't say nothing
(facts)
Been havin' smoke, but he ain't even know had a Glock on my lap in the back of the car (facts)
I rapped about Hemis with Nicki Minaj, by the time
'cross the way and there's, like, this fuckin' dude
He's surrounded by, like, a battalion of fuckin' people, right?
It's this guy now, he's a famous
ran Bouchet, ain't fuck with Powell
That was grade school by the way, we been them niggas all this time
Actin' East headed for the rap, damn near
a family of mine
[Mr. Marcelo]
Me and my girl, better yet me and my shawty
Early morn', smoke a blunt, drink a half of forty
What's the half baby?, you know
and gun smoke and
Gun choke and - get
Raise by the rats roaches
Real youngin' over growin'
Afraid they gave my man life
Feds they gave my man ten
Messing
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