Lyrics:
hand
This a lugubrious game if you fuck with the gang
Then that blood turning red from that blue in your veins
Living still life means I'm stuck in
don't know us
Vision eighty-eight kilos of cocaine smack-dead in your face
The street value of that is what you dream to make
Runnin' illegal
it again
As you listen if you get it then vibe, recording with them
Killer verses mirk all that comes by like a militant
Stay in your lane before you
I'ma tell you a story at the
End is where is begins
Two men walkin' down the street with
Pistols gripped to their hands
Murder on their mind it's
I'ma fuck this generation up with a full clip
Can not wait to bring the body bags back with bullshit
Blood and guts are hanging in my hands, murder
Pray you see tomorrow little boy, you gon' learn
All them pretty bitches leave yo' ass in the urn
You ain't sold your last rock, you just better
leave you looking helpless
Give ya ass a little taste
Of what you never was expecting
Come to Naptown
And get a 101 murder lesson
These streets will take
back, you're pissed
Keep running your mouth
I'll run in your house and kidnap your kids
Faith like Evans
I'm a survivor, pricks wanna send but get 187
By
thirsty and they looking for a refill
If the gang eatin, guns barking at your doggie bag
Get took out for your take out now you carry out
Murder by
one, and one invented not by our venerable ancestors, but by a devilishly clever marketing firm, not to symbolize your everlasting love, but to make
are gonna have to come and get me
Off your ass, that's how I'm goin out
For the punk motherfuckers that's showin' out
Niggaz start to mumble, they
I left a message by your door
Got a chrome 44
Get the message, come out and get the message
It won't even be a war, no beef no more
Get the message,
its true
moneys the route of all evil
cause crooked or legal
its all manipulated by the eagle
and be my motive for murder
[CHORUS]
[Twista]
lord knows
its true
moneys the route of all evil
cause crooked or legal
its all manipulated by the eagle
and be my motive for murder
*CHORUS*
*Twista*
lord knows
the fuck you saying?
You ain't getting money girl you need a plan
You a broke bitch, always holding out your hand
I'm a real bitch
I just be getting
scare you, I can tell 'cause your shivering
Lyrics label wit an X and not a G
I say fuck the police, yo, so now they after me
I'm wanted by the law so
other New York rappers
Jay-Z of Hawaiian Soapy fame, Big Little whatever
And several other corny sounding motherf***ers
are understandably shaken up by
I'm dyin with yours
Kamikaze, sicker than a muh'fuckin' Nazi
Got a little question for that nigga that made "Paparazzi"
If you ain't in this rap game,
still let them murder you to your face
Go smoke more freebase, if you can't remember your own name don't show up at my place
Lookin for help be lookin
Benz
You know me I like it wet, rode slowly
By the way baby, how old is you codie
You lookin' a little young to me
And how many you had that girl on,
got a gift for you
It’s a little .22
And I hope it travels through
Through your fucking brain
So that you could too
Go insane
So finally you would be
her time was running thin
She was a victim of a murder ballad
On a bed of song and tragedy
Her life was taken by a cruel hand
In a cold and heartless
did, take 'em hostage.
Terrorized and tortured your ghetto resource, a big payback (payback)! Little Lay that
Little nigga with scrilla.
And bitch I
you want
Come and jump
They get smoked
Like a blunt
Just for putting up the front
Little runt
Saving
Cause I'll murder all your friends
I'm awakened
It
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