Lyrics:
operator like
Kane shootin pool
Got these bitches all around us
Life's great issa mood
Food for your thinking
In a groove when I'm drinkin
Dark liquor dog
They made me realise im better by myself by my lonely
Get the fuck ou my face if you aint talking cake yuh
These pussy niggaz lame cuz all they do is
pockets, bitch break it off
You could have the gun in my face, I wouldn't take it off
I thought Lil' Bro was slime, he was a snake at all
So I'm finna
title
Al Kapone is my idile
To protect and serve
I roll with my assault rifle
Jack niggaz for nothin' less than a quarter key
Take hits on buster
look, look
Told my mama I made it
Driving to different cities observing these different places
Meeting bitches discreetly this shit is far from
Bitches be all on my line
All on my dick all of the time
Got me a dime
She love to swallow my kids
She just won’t swallow her pride
Pardon my french
peep yo' surroundings
Watch for snake niggaz, snake bitches
Know what I'm sayin
A lot of people got crooked ways
'Cause they was broke and they
niggaz bitches, like fuck a friendship
Black Mercedes with limo tints in
I’m smoking loud I cannot hear shit
I shoot like CJ Miles going for the swish
Eh
of the sun
Worth the Franklin Mint and Wall Street combined into one
They can't see it yet though, different like niggaz sayin petrol
for gas, english metric
On the ten-speed herbed up, nigga word up
You saw me, but if not your man did
I know I pull gats on why'all for crack shit
Yeah uh-huh
[CHORUS:2x]
My niggaz
"These niggaz get on my nerves though, on tour.
Especiall Az-Izz, that nigga'll fuck a midget!"
Yes
Outsidaz
Yo, I be fuckin every I go, man
At my lowest point and i ain't have no where to turn
It hurt my heart when you sat there and let me burn
If you for me then be for me, don't go ahead
on and all that
If I ain’t a real one, What you call that
I’m top shotta, Big dogg, A Rottweiler
Dundodda
Been counting cash for a whole hour
Ask around
They
Thug from the past
Sold drugs by the slab
Use to transport coke through cabs
Like a fork to the hill
Until my nigga Black got killed
Talkin' guns
These
Yo, hah yo, rah, yo, yo
Yo, yo, yo
Yo, I got stress on my brain that causes chest pains
Inside the best frames ghetto blood clots is scored by
"From the underground" (Scrathed by DJ Premier)
Fuck all y'all bitches ass niggas from my heart
Everybody talkin shit but nobody want to start
with you
I'm 2 the head...
Yeah! Now all you fake niggaz: get the fuck off my nuts!
I got my shit rollin' so now I'm like a mack in town
And when
to twerk it
Got her yerpin like i popped me a perky
My bitches aint broke they gone pick up the tab
You cuffing a shone but she still up for grabs
Begging
than E or PMD did
(Ha!) Word like so many hoochies on my penis
By the time I'm twenty-nine I have more Suns than Phoenix
Watch the man bust, pose for
[Big L]
Yo check it out
yo check it
yo i got slugs for snitches
no love for bitches
puttin thugs in ditches when my trigger finger itches
i got a rep
to Fentynal we sell it all it's credible
Distribution incredible ranking colonels and sentinels
Placement is impeccable strategic intellectual
My Killas aim for
Izzy make me a beat, imma slide on it
All of my niggas I'd die for 'em
I put some drank in my styrofoam
Darker the berry, the sweeter the juice
At war
authentic
It keeps them suckas jockin' so my windows stay tinted
I meant it when I said "I will pimp til I die"
Makin' them bitches cry
And nigga, don't
boys
I be grippin toys, killing all the noise
target practice on, and i'm ready for some war
Niggaz they be stoppin, sittin down watchin
Know they can't
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