Lyrics:
God's son)
I'm God's son, what that mean? No one can stop him
I know the haters be hatin' but they jock 'em
It's blessings on the way, can't let
to me in my dreams
Is she taken? (Is she taken?) Is she mine? (Is she mine?)
Don't got time don't care, don't have two shits to give
Let me take you by
and soldier'd up, can't none of y'all say that I owed y'all nothin'
When I fade to black just hold it up, y'all better say that I made y'all somethin'
When
can't front, stick men
Here's a few who really come to do
What they say gon' do
Back at the ranch
There's no Carte Blanche
Everybody gon' move when
tell Obama be more like Punch
Sounwave got a Grammy this year
Mack wop, bet he do what he want
Level two, level two
No I'm not done
You ain't
cannibals ain't no fan it
You man who do a lot in a jam or two
Said I'm a sell out cause I worked with Wayne
First your brain need work
You hurt the game
haven't ran out of gas yet
And when they stacked decks, turn handicaps into assets
Fanny packs, hourglasses
If time was on my side, I'd still have none
That's what we live by, die for it
I got homies standing firm doing time for it
We have 5K1 [?] killers [??]
We gon bust that nigga, fuck that nigga!
fingers on the .45 chrome
Dead aim at my brain, infrared with no lights on
I ain't afraid to die, I want to see what's after this
I'm living blind
but I wonder
(Is he rich like me?) Ha-ha
(Has he taken, any time, to show you what you need to live?)
No! If he had, he wouldn't have ended up in
one day and discovered this DJ who was mixin'
I say it to this day, if you ain't listened to the The Wizard
You ain't have a fuckin' clue what you was
you know gang ain't playin' (cash)
If he a opp you can't save him, ain't sparin' (bah)
Bitch you ain't never been in a McLaren (hey)
I got two
on my way to see this hoe you know the fuckin plan
Can't understand, but the things ain't the same
You could die over these bitches if you slippin in
balls cutthroat
With gangstas cross if you here to one time
Ain't no flossing, but if you pimp the bitch and stack the grits
She make em good money
of the night she think it ain't fun
If the homies can't have none (trick)
Whoa whoa whoa whoa (trick)
If you got a tight back
Whoa whoa whoa whoa
She's
down if the cops come (hold that)
Can we have fun? Yes, can we be a match? No
Gotta keep my guards up, we can't get attached, though (uh-uh)
We ain't
a bitch can't get no money from me (what? Nah)
And every nigga that's with me keep a gun (got it)
Bet not run up on us 'cause we ain't for none
We
[Featuring Mac]
[Master P]
Dear Mr. President i live in the hood
Where people live bad
But say its all good
And my homies
this DJ who was mixin'
I say it to this day, if you ain't listened to the The Wizard
You ain't have a f- clue what you was missin'
I'd zone out with
the fuck up
I said if y'all ready to have a party, say hell mothafuckin' yeah (hell yeah) Standing six feet tall, weighing 160 pounds, coming live from
calls to bail sheets, it ain't no tellin'
If I wake up in the county in my jail sheets
My intuitions and ambitions up in the late night
Probably
fingers on the .45 chrome
Dead aim at my brain, infrared with no lights on
I ain't afraid to die, I want to see what's after this
I'm living blind
To know what God taught
If that ain't at the root then
Everything will fall apart, part, part, part
Yeah, can I live I want to feel what you feel
See what
government ain't built for me and you
I have a dream, no, I have a wish
If we can't save ourselves, then let's save the kids
Let the world go, let these
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