Lyrics:
"Your challengers are a young group from Houston
Welcome, Beyoncé, Lativia, Nina, Nicky, Kelly and Ashley
The hip hop rappin' Girls' TYME"
I'm
Listen to the tale I tell
a haunting dream I know so well
When walking home alone one night
my path revealed by candlelight
Ahead I see an open door
reasons
Hard to kill a n**** cause I'm comin' back like Jesus
Bow down to my ill nation runnin' from drug cases
Lookin' at my congregation so full
reasons
Hard to kill a nigga cause I'm comin' back like Jesus
Bow down to my ill nation runnin' from drug cases
Lookin' at my congregation so full
at the front door of the sears tower
Yup
You know the dude from saturday night live dan aykroyd ghostbusters
Yeah
He was dressed up as elwood panhandling
Believe
Leaving you, girl, headed down, down that road
You left me many burdens, and such a heavy load
And man it sure does wig me out
When I think about
or dead
Level is the groove when I lead the led
But hip is my lip when I'm Shwinging it
(On and on at three steps ahead)
(On and on at three steps
live on the streets of Houston town
Packed up my wife and kids when winter came along
And we headed down south with just spit and a song
But they
me
Cuz I'm far from where contempt be
I'm moving like a M3
On the autobahn til it's empty
So I don't see em as they envy
I'm going going gone
Like
goes back juss like them splinters an 'em temps, uh
met this bitch that was in Houston, said she was from Houston,
said her profession was stackin
by it
I'd like to be my old self again but I'm still tryin' to find it
After plaid shirt days and nights when you made me your own
Now you mail back
Exacerbated by the fact that my syntax
Is highly complicated 'cause I emigrated
From the single greatest little place in the Caribbean:
Dominican Republic!
these meds and I can't feel my body
I just touched down on a whole notha island
We gone creep when you sleep if you wildin
I redesign em, b** I'm
harmonious, I'm so gone like Monica
Blowin' Backwoods only, the only papers is Houston Chronicles
A Hall of Fame hustler, voted unanimous and anonymous
But
do it betta
I'm best when under presha, smoke up in my chest
Momma mad, 'cause I just just failed my piss test
Brain deader than a door knob
This is,
I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood
Where niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good
So we rock it like Tracy McGrady
Send it
the little girl from Houston
Made her fall in love with me
But I'm just another lost cause
Sleepin' out with those jackdaws
Thinkin' like some old stray dog
And how the sky gets heavy when you are underneath it
Oh, I want to sail away from here
And God
He came down down down down down down down down
And said
happening on properties by these folks that don't look like me
But when I see they do they telling us no Tupac'ish and then I go right
In thruw the front door
your door
Four, niggaz deep, bandanas with black calicos
So, when we creep, drop cause I'ma hit you nine times
Take your nine lives, bump up
toes I know for grind
I wanna blow I wanna get high
Who gone be there for me
When I got nobody
I'm feeling lost in this world
Being broke got me
wrong
So it's best that you head home
(why?) bitches the lead's blown
Then half of yo' head's gone
We'll be buyin' yo' headstone
From the land where
You're kicked out of the Family name
When you say Shipon, you're not
By my religious authority, as a Commandment follower
I've stricken your name from
I'm down to kick a door
You Damn Right, Get to the bag, tell a nigga dead And gone, you Damn Right
I'm outside, on the way to get some more
You Damn
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