Lyrics:
alright
'Cause when you're bad you will feel sad
That's the religion I live by
There's a bloke in the book who made everything
He knows every
Puff Daddy, who would've thought it?
I bought that nigga album in seventh grade and played it so much
You would've thought my favorite rapper was Puff
the gate I got it started off right
Daddy told me (son), "You ain't gotta beat around the bush" (for sure)
Deep inside I feel you, Lord (number one)
I've
you off
Broad, with the cause (yeah) bitch on a mission
Keep them niggas by they nuts while you hoes be dick kissin
Missing the game, damn bitch it's
a drug deal gone wrong
Figured out a lot, you won't be that way long
Plus, you niggas is bush leaguers
And I bet y'all ain't get no bush either
My hood
new albums
There has been a triple homicide by a man named Syre
So, you think you can save rap music?
twisting the sterile canvas snoot of
a fully-charged icing anointment utensil. And every time a nice little muffin comes
by on the belt, he poots forth...
to rise Ask questions to answer mine
Smarter I dont beat around the bush Cah you dunkno everyday
Every day
Until I find an after life that I can thrive in
Lil ma circle by my house wit' the weed trap
Now my Zip-Lock's be full of bubble-kush
Spark it like a broads bush when she's on douche
Fruit
Who bold enough to challenge this deadly reportation
Of keeping MC's in a hopeless situation
No comparison, if you put the darts side by side
One will
fuck the President Bush and his legislation
Shit gotta change and we ain't waiting, fuck patience
'Cause the government corrupt, I can prove it
dies as a old man
Martin Luther King read the eulogy for him
Followed by Bill O'Reilly who read from the Quran
President Bush sends condolences from
a van
Driven by an elder gentlemen who cuts right in front of me
From now on that's all I see
(instrumental)
Chorus
Its a nine hour drive from me
theater (uh-huh)
Yeah I don't need a man's wealth (yeah)
But I can do bad (bad) by my damn self (self)
And uhh
Who's got the illest pussy
wicked deams (deamons)
I keep my pistol by my bedside one in the chamber
Preoccupied with homocide my life's in danger
Rollin down the four-five beware
There was movement at the station, for the word had passed around that the colt from Old Regret had got away
And had joined the wild bush horses, he
me
We've come a long way since H.O.C. (watch)
I live by the beat, I die by the beat, since 1990, I (I)
Live by the beat, I die by the beat, like
Cool & Dre
Back on the motherfucking Westside,
L.A.X niggas, yeah
Y'all know who the fuck I am
I'm free as a motherfucking bird I swear,
passion
Every ghetto needs a Thugs Mansion
A place where death doesn't reside, jus' thugz who collide
Not to start beef but to spark trees, no cops rollin'
who like us, is just to listen
What comes from us directly, like this now, and the album of course.
Kiske:
Yeah, especially the album.
Schwichtenberg:
New York City
Ever since I used my man I moved to Jersey
But realistically, God, could of called me early
'Cause I got a big bop I'm wanted by
deludes reality
By the missionaries of sin
Who evict virtue for fame
Judgement of the marionettes
Is decided on the goodness
Determined by
Wind in my hair, I was there
I remember it all too well
Photo album on the counter, your cheeks were turning red
You used to be a little kid with
don’t matter though, it ain’t about me
It’s about ideas people with new ideas
People who believe in truth
And yes
As you probably could have guessed by
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