Lyrics:
is the way to convey to you what I'm facing
Placing my life in front of your eyes for your observation
Now if you can't relate then maybe you are
yeah)
Meet me by the moon (right)
Half past dusk (fuck that)
Back from the dust, Cut Throat
He loves them drugs and guns
Jump in the cut, got about
Says he's goin out to find blind spots and he'll do it
The 3rd planet is sure that they're being watched
By an eye in the sky that can't be stopped
heaven in my eyes
I took a long time, I apologize
Even though at times you messed up
Shaking your ass up in the club, that's messed up
But you're quick
with fives in his eyes
not that I'm gon cry for Mary Blige
I die for my niggaz packin steel
Chicken heads with sex appeal
reveal sexual acts up in
see bank like Frank White
Your hand clutchin', your chest-plate contemplate
You 'bout to die, nigga wait, keep yo' hands high
Yo yo
I don't brown
beat yo' ass if you walk in this house with tears in your eyes
Runnin' from poopoo and 'prentice
Go back outside, I beat yo' ass, lil nigga
That
her again
Just walking by with some new guy
I know that we will need to pretend
And hope our eyes keep telling lies
Sit on the back porch
him with you everywhere you go
Keep your soul fed
She rubbed some blessed oil on my forehead
In the name of the father, son, holy spirit
Take control,
name rings bells in the game 'cause I'm the truth
Keep hustlin', grindin'
Re-up put work on consignment
Then cash in
My clientele is swell
I flood
stand by your side
I'll fight
For the ones who stopped dreaming
And the ones who stopped believing
You're not alone
I feel your pain
I cry
For
staple your tongue
Bury a friend, try to wake up
Cannibal class, killing the son
Bury a friend, I wanna end me
What do you want from me?
Why don't
see bank like Frank White
Your hand clutchin', your chest-plate contemplate
You 'bout to die, nigga wait, keep yo' hands high
Yo yo
I don't brown
keep a fifth on the belt
Pulling out the needles with the liable
Make shine sit on the shelf
Cause I ain't light on the body
Fuck waiting in your
dog, everything gon' be alright dog
Rabbit, nigga, its your son
I'm down in your hole and your down
You see Cita straight, mom straight
Your mom
number
Then there's this Welsh Rarebit wearing some brown underpants
About the stortage of grain in Hertfordshire
Everyone of them knew that as time
to lose
Just tryna vibe until them hoes role with the ride
Where's your joy and pride? You know little Des' got your eyes
In the cut drop CLK,
dog
But the shit's that it hurt and burn deep
Its alright dog, everything gon' be alright dog
Rabbit, nigga, its your son
I'm down in your hole
in love but I'm not now, I'm not now
Yeah, Ciroc Scott, AKA Scott Brown It's Scott Brown
You comin for me let's see what you got now
Let's see what you
night I started dialing your number and I just hung up
I had it all rehearsed in my mind but my tongue got stuck
Tonight I'm gonna close my eyes when
a large, uh glandular organ in your abdomen
You know it's uh, it's reddish brown, it's sort oh uh
Yeah, yeah yeah, I know what it is but, I'm using it
And you blow my mind, baby
(Press rewind if I-)
(Ahem) Let me get busy with the funky fly stuff
'Cause I cut your freakin' eyes, fuck Bruce Willis
of the black powder smoke
And the stand in the street at the turn of a joke
It's always keep your back to the sun
And he can almost feel the weight
the cars go by, roarin' as the breezes blow
Crazy lady, livin' in a bag
Eatin' outta garbage pails, used to be a fag hag
Said she'll dance the tango, skip
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