Lyrics:
running wild trying to rearrange other artist
Street dates, in fear of a wipe out in retail interchart movement.
Although no one knows the exact 'cause
the homies, that's on me
24/7, Kendrick reppin' these cold streets
Don't we live by it, die by it, then reincarnate
And if Game told me, "Drive by it," I
the peace
Don't you play with one of ours
It be murder in the street
It be bodies in the hour
Ghetto bird be on the street
Paramedics on the dial
Let somebody
killa killa killa I'll pull your card
Just got out of jail beat a murder charge
Nigget niggaz in the hood don't take no crap
Quick to get the gat
Ain't the type to trust
Drop some trusses on they wings
Hear how they sing
Ain't no fucking sides to it man
They all the same team
Sprinkle murder in
World Wide
OFTB 1996
Low MB bustop
Flip Side let's take it world wide
Serve 'em
Suge Knight got the sack
Everybody on the streets and in
Frozen medallions, they come from Mesopotamia
The Sheikhs carry me in the
Streets out in Arabia
Tuna fish cans of black hash
Open caskets filled with
, and break old tradition
They put kids in jail, for a life they ain't even get to start
That's murder too, and it's breaking my heart,
It's breaking our
makin it happen
Bitch check it, ya heard me
see-Murder:
Nigga back in the day i used to dream about fortune and fame
Jump in the game and you
to the roof of his mouth for thirst
they that be slain in the street be better than we that be slain by hunger and thirst
(Yoh) hard world out here
on dubs out
And they got quarters, halves and birds in one house (I got it, I got it)
It's all good in the hood, hustlin' like it's legal
Soon as you get
on dubs out
And they got quarters, halves and birds in one house (I got it, I got it)
It's all good in the hood, hustlin' like it's legal
Soon as you get
V.N.G.
Life in L.A. ain't no cup of ter
Squeeze the trigger
I've been dogged out by cops,shackled and socked
Paid my dues to the streets,took my hard
to me
But I wipe em' all out like booty
I'm so unruly, the police don't say nothin' to me
It don't matter whether they on or off duty
I murder you
Athlete's Feet
Duck Down - breathe, pure uncut
I can bag it in dimes, (Freakniks) like (Beat Street)
A-T-L, beat-beat, what the deal?
You (Okay) like Ciara,
the trenches, tryna change
Live by it, die by it, cause I'm stuck in my ways
A cold-hearted thug nigga, but quiet as Kep
They took a nigga out the ghetto, but my
your mind like they did Kennedy's
Closed casket ghetto boys world where we
Make the murder bracket high shore taxes
High by the dead beat daddy’s
to win
Sex, money, murder, take the safety off my sins (yeah!)
[Chorus]
Money make the world go round, you better get it
Money cause hatred as soon
played out, the 808 out
You trying find a way out
You need the industry, flip them and that's the truth, revenue coming in for the parties And so it's cool
it's finna go up (Jesus)
A year done went by, her daughter just turned one (Lord)
And she's still dependent on her mom
Big brother in the streets, he
it's finna go up (Jesus)
A year done went by, her daughter just turned one (Lord)
And she's still dependent on her mom
Big brother in the streets, he
trying to rearrange other artist
Street dates, in fear of a wipe out in retail inter chart movement
Although no one knows the exact cause of the new album
think he need a shrink
Just copped a new Rolly had to lose a link
Killed him in the valet, murder was the case
Bitch I call my safe Mars 'cause it's
killed my brother
They killed my woadie
They got me up late sittin' by the window with my 40
Long live Ronnie B, long live TD
The streets so dirty
I
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