Lyrics:
say man, track after track was just
Him just giving us his truth and uh
And if you can live life just, you know, just being truthful
You won't have no
GOT YOUR SOUL
MEET THE MAN WHO SOLD OUT TO THE WORLD
YOU LET YOUR STARMAN DOWN. MR.KARMA CLOWN
YOU'RE NO HERO OR MAINMAN TO ME
YOU SOLD US A LIE WHILE
two.
George Jones and Jesus pulled me through.
When a man is on the bottom he may not cry for help.
But he needs to know he's not alone in hell all
of that six figure shit,
that live and die by the trigger shit,
that H-Town, P.A. Texas trill ass nigga shit.
want to fuck with me get a bigger clique,
Real talkin nigga
Man I'm all about my cash flow
Nigga I'm the shit my momma
Had me out her asshole nigga I be actin'
Nigga know that we mackin'
hello new
Tow the line - don't be free
Live by rules of CPC
Make it cheap - ship it quick
Yellow sky - people sick
Coal and greed feed industry - financed
Kate and Tom?
Where are Elmer, Bert?
Where are Mag and Tom
Where are all?
They brought them dead sons from the war
And daughters whom life had crushed
life in denial
Straight to death skip the trial
Catch 'em kill 'em you're so vile
Tom vigil the pedophile.
Live your life in denial
Straight to death
could never live without you
You know that what I feel has to be true
'Cause you're my, my sweet lover
I pray you have your soul to keep
Old school
feeling pimple come around and get yo man popped
Love overrated baby
I can sell a ho my soul she gone still play me
Niggaz wanna get my sack but i ain't tom
the Murdera's
We different, you don't wanna fuck with us
We different, how we see the souls through the eyes
Live for life, its murda for life nigga
We different,
the life of Jesus Jones
You meet a man they call the chef and you ask him what can he cook
He pauses for a moment and with a smile says, "just the books"
off
Gift given by God, so we showing off
Buzzing like a gnat, no Romanoff
Get to know us 'fore we blow like Molotov
Bang bang, gang gang, REJX, this
when I transmit
I am the man-a of the family 'cause the pants fit
I want to let forensics prove, that I can mends groove
With the thread from needle
Uh, GOOD Music, this our year
Backing drums by DJ Premier
Now let me count it down
Who the fuck up in here
Common, Don, Old G, battle rap, oh
That
Trackateering Music
Man, y'all did it with this one here, y'all
People love to use that quote
"I'm doin' it for the culture"
But what culture is that
way)
Cause I got nuttin to lose, suttin to prove, I'm screamin' EASTSIDE
(EASTSIDE!!!)
While I dump on you dudes (Dip-Set!)
And what we live by (yeah),
ride
If they ride, let 'em ride the rod
Trust they lives in the hands of God
Casey Jones was a brave engineer
He told his fireman to not to fear
on the corner, gonna see to that
Some like to smoke and some like to blow
Some are even strung out on a fifty dollar Jones
Some are trying to ditch reality by
Black man, born free,
At least that's the way it's supposed to be;
The chains that bind him are hard to see,
Unless you take this walk with me
Stanley by God Terry knew exactly how it felt
To play a George Jones song in a white leather belt
With matching shoes, polyester blues
At the Pine
when I transmit
I am the man-a of the family 'cause the pants fit
I want to let forensics prove, that I can mends groove
With the thread from needle
Black man, born free,
At least that's the way it's supposed to be;
The chains that bind him are hard to see,
Unless you take this walk with me;
it tight, a'ight (you're all)
And I'ma walk these dogs so we can live (I need)
In a phat-ass crib with thousands of kids (to get by)
Word life you
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