Lyrics:
LINE…
YOU GOTTA MOVE AROUND EM…
THEM LIL NIGGAS OUTTA BOUNDS….
YOU GOTTA SHOOT EM OUT IT….
HUH
NIGGAS KNOW IT ALRIGHT (I DIDNT KNOW IT)..
I AINT GOTTA
Do you remember in 1969?
Seeing all the skinheads standing in a line
Foaming at the mouth, Waiting for a fight
High boots, cropped hair, what
depressed me
The glitter in your eyes undressed me
You were polished slick
Really thick
Wasting time dropping lines like
"I could get you into movies"
But we
(fuck you)
You cross the line, I'ma touch you
Don't care about if I love you
I get them pounds on a muscle
Put sixty rounds in the (yeah, yeah)
I put
and a nigga, K, homie
All bitches, look into it as you want the real killa?
Well, pull out your pistol, bitch, and shoot it, shoot it
And you knew it, do it,
grenades nigga got them too
Ya damn right I shoot
If a nigga run up on you I'ma get him and I spill like I s'posed to do
And If I roll wit you
Ima be that
came quick?
Them same cats on the most wanted list
We can hit them, then straight disappear in the mist
...Won't cease to exist
I shoot to kill,
Pulling the torch on you been self employed
Servin' cutties is my line of work
They line up for work, chop it down
Sniff a line of work when they tastе mine
I keep the Pyrex poppin' (whip it, whip it)
Coffee pot droppin'
Trap line on fire and they won't stop knockin' (who that?)
No safety on the 40
the sky line
Four Rolls Royces and they all mine
I may paint them bitches Nipsey Blue
All my niggas train, no talk, just shoot
And all my bitches
Stay on the line, never get by
'Cause laziness does not pay
My heart is set on this old winter’s day
Son of a gun, you got me stunned
You cut me down,
misery
Proper guilty ? ?
"????"
" weapons"
strangers ? ? ? lines
No change equal minds
cannot look in that face of life
Living until you die
Alone
for Sunday dinner
Now some white kids they want to be black
Some white kids don't know how to act
Some turned rap and take the stand
Cause the lines
a side now
Okay let's play what's your sign I'm
Two faced they say Geminis are
Shoot straight I can't tell a lie
Can't find the line to define you
A Boogie
Bando I ain't here for the cookie
She a real one, she ain't got no rookie
I'm a bad man I ain't got no rookie
Shoot no 40, come here pussy
Sweet
Clever men and our violence
Silence is when we shoot from the lip to quiet them
We talk nonviolence and stay silent when it suits
It's all
it feel like a ho house
Rapping it up, we ship it, then go out
You know we gon shoot
Step on these niggas, we need some more boots
This is a you know
mean, you know the rules of the game)
I came a long way from Doat Street
When it's time to shoot
I don’t get cold feet
This the life that we chose, get
ain't got a option, they'll shoot yo shit up
That's facts nigga, stay strapped nigga
Ridin' round town with that same fat nigga
That's deep dash, window
Yah
Ya banna le di trrrrrrr
Ke utlwa entse le bua ma ada kaka hiso
Mo strateng, touch line
Mo strateng, touch line
Heh
Makasana, makasana
Shoot em' in the back now
What they want, I don't know
They're all reved up and ready to go
They're forming in a straight line
They're goin through
time.
The Empire State,
She rides on Eastern time,
She's the "rollingest" baby,
On the New York Central line.
It was a mean ol' fireman,
fuckin' his bitch while she slurpin'
We shoot his lil' brother in a hoopty
In a while, we shooting a movie
I'm fuckin' on all these groupies
These
rubbin' her thighs
Yeah, ooh, somethin' like that's on fire
Ooh, bitch, I'm one of a kind
Shoot, if a nigga play, he dyin'
Ooh, I got a lot on the line
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