Lyrics:
prostitution, but I ain't hatin' it (but I ain't hatin' it)
I got the models comin' by the fews, I hope you relatin' it (hope you relate)
After I made her tie
after actually factually is a master piece
Ashy ass get some lotion for your ashy knees
Word got back to me bow down in the fuck’em all factory
East way
***MICHEL'LE***
Keep my kids frost like they was born in east L.A.
Told yo' buy yo' weed by the ounce, twins lets bi-dounce
That shit they talkin' don't add
by day
You got to find your own way to throw the dice
You got to prove that you're tough, to take the smooth with the rough
There's only one way
Choose the sword, and you will join me
Choose the ball, and you join your mother, in death
You don't understand my words, but you must choose
To L.A on the spot where I rock and bust like straps
As your views get overshadowed when you come in contact
Beware, set and prepare to enter verbal
Sky's the limit, 2 for 5's the gimmick
You line something up, I tie something up
They run up out that crib with that money
Nigga what
School of hard
somethin so beautiful come from me?
After the gunshots thought you was done with me
But I know I'm livin now, why you made me put the guns down
Pick up
let you go 'cause I know
I want you for very long (la música de Harry Fraud)
So I say
All my bitches ask me how many bitches I got (got)
Can you
Central Park was a thrivin' black town
Yo, Chuck, I'm fightin' the power right now
Thank you, Flav and P-E, puttin' it down
Puttin' your life on the line
blastin
Dig a hole and throw his ass in
And I won't be happy til I'm down to my last ten
Get his fuckin pitchfork
Tie him up, and then feed the bitch pork
L.A.?
Did you stand there in shock at the sight of that black smoke
Risin' against that blue sky?
Did you shout out in anger, in fear for your neighbor
Down South, hustler, former weight smuggler
I'm Mother, of the Tank, gave birth to an army
Guerrilla millionaires, so don't even ask, if you wanna
Get
the Apollo
I'm trapped out like fuck y'all, I'll abide by this gun law
Unless you gon' do me like Eric Gardner
If you catch me smokin' on my cigar
Put my hands
gettin' short
All my homies was in court
Or locked in a hole, this shit was gettin' old
So I changed my life
Putted down the gun and picked up the mic
just the way it's done
niggas tell me they respect the way I blaze them guns
And hold it down for the bronx in the name of pun
They wanna know why
Compton crip card kill each other
Faster than the opposite color
Niggas wack out everything, your dead homies
Your mother your new born brother
If God was
cash for eighty seven
Some did it got paid, some jams were never played
But I am just a poet who watched the whole parade
Go by, and why, cause they
mathematical 'cause I just bumped me a badder hoe
Well Las Vegas Nevada hoe, stripper international
Some big old tits and ass an all, she loves all by that grass
But they're phony
They bitches, they can blow me
You can't control me
Try to tie me down, but you cannot hold me
You are not the homie
Mother fuckers
turn my volume down
Do not bring your friends around
Only few, I'm holding down
La de da de da de da
Do I trust 'em? Probably not
I think that y'all
that crystal aching my last ?name is Raheed?
It can happen niggas, dog keys, and still gun it down
Only cause I know how you look up to a nigga, from
world
Let me see the backside of your moon
No Vickies only La Perl-a
Let me take you to Indonesia
Where nobody can reach us
There's no need
all about
But are we really looking through one another?
The most polite of children sit by their mothers
La La La La La
La La La La La
Make it up now
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