Lyrics:
They ask me why I'm hateful, why I'm bad.
They tell me I got things they never had.
They tell me go to church and see the light.
'cause the good
me
you won't hear me
you won't know that i'm there
and as you look over your stupid shoulder
i disappear into thin air
yeah you think you are
me a ghetto shot, down on the ghetto block
Front page of the newspaper, fiend dies over ghetto rock
I'm tired of the ghetto noise, ghetto girls ghetto
love would over rule my sense, and I'd call you back for more,
If I were your woman.
If I were your woman, and you were my man. Um baby.
She tears
Verse 1: [Mic]
Tint that shine full us to the teeth
ask yourself can you ball like me
it's nothin that an amateur can try to see
even hoes
smack
Yeah, you know what I'm saying?
No time to be playing 'cause these niggas be delaying
Word, yo, when I get busy
Here and over there to New York
Yeah, you know what I'm saying?
No time to be playing 'cause these niggas be delaying
Word yo when I get busy
Here and over there to New York City
much fear
During the Craven's war
Please don't ask for more
See what we passed by
A thousand crimes and lies
The social infection is here
Paranoia
To show my disbelief
I painted every fucker black
Want to crawl all over you
Suck the smell of your dirty skin
Who could ever ask for more
In a world
wrong and what's right
Failed the meaning every time
Came in swifty but you didn't give me
A chance to think it over.
Comfort me I'm cold
I'm so
wretched finger at me with a wretched smile
And she asks me in a voice that sounds as if it's been so long
since she spoke, if I seek magic then I should
the straightening comb
When I'm up in 'em spittin' venoms I never go soft (never)
I make that pussy snap Back Back Back and Forth
Some more outtakes over B.Rich
in the same game
But enough about CaTash, let's talk about some skrill
You know it's bout to pop if Likwit Crew is on the bill
You can ask my nigga
That's the jam
[Mad Skillz]
Now if you want to play around don't play with me
You can play with AIDS, I'm puttin H's in your IV's
Bum raps over drum taps;
be wicked, keep that biscuit by yo' side
What the fuck? Who the next crew to get run amuck?
It's all real over here, on the streets you get stuck
for
for me
A new dream
I have one I know that very few dream
I would like to see that over-due dream
Even though it never may come true
A new love
sorry excuse
Get your neck put in a noose
K-L is quick to let loose, to make your blood count reduce
Over the snare drum
We reproduce like cum
as my diary gets
Deeper, I see this Mack type figure, who is he?
Bitches want to know, so Ill get busy
I got the latest news, ask Conny Chung
Tu madre
and still air
and the fungus-lined gap between stinking towns
Pork-Eyes got him a brand new hand
He's gonna grasp you
He won't ask you
and he'll tell
I always would
I'm leaving now but don't ask why
If you don't know then don't even try
But here's a little something to remember me by
Yeah,
Send me no more letters
Nor ask me how I'm going
It might make you feel better
But it's none of your business knowing
It's none of your business
ever asks us, let's just tell them that we met in jail
And that's the story that I'm sticking to like
A stony-faced accomplice, but tonight I need
down in the DM, even your stock
You gotta love it, bitches after me, hassle me by the dozen
If she can't have me, she ask do I got a brother
I'm
questionin' you, not God
Besides, I guarantee he got more answers than we do
Always askin' everybody, "What would Jesus do?"
But they never ever ask Jesus,
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