Lyrics:
nigga, attackin' ya.
These 4-5 hollow tips will have you backin' up.
I only do my dirt at night like dracula.
I'm wanted by the feds, these
let it goooo
Yo, they call me Mr. Intellectual, I keep a bunch of vegetables
Carrots and the broccoli, how the hell can you stop me?
Naughty by
hollow points to they fuckin' chest
Cause I ain't never seen a cock beamer meant for a team of tummy guns
With a hundred round fuckin' drum
[Chorus]
thousand light-years from Galactic Central Point,
We go 'round every two hundred million years;
And our galaxy itself is one of millions of billions
In this
chicanary
Of peoples rape recorded on tape
Brought shame to the presidency
Tonight, tonight
One more point for human rights
Tonight, tonight
One more
through?
Twelve thousand miles but I've got not resistance,
Long distance, long distance, long distance, long distance
Still no points for my
it how it go
Cock the hollow points
And tote my black calicoe
My lil' brother Weezy
(My big brother Juvi)
(Four hit the blocks)
(Strapped up with
-play, day-by-day
Rollin' in my four with sixteen switches
And got sounds for the bitches
Clockin' all the riches, got the hollow points for the snitches
So won't
To the status of an Al Capone
Mr big 6 in the game of bones
But you know what they say what
Goes up must come down
So just peep what I speak as
You focus
the sea, Mr. Todd
We'll be comfy, cozy
By the sea Mr. Todd
Where there's no one nosy
Life is for the alive, my dear
So let's keep living it
Just
Catalina and little
By little I worked
Through to the end of the script at which
Point I might have left: only by
Then those two boys from
The finance
Hollow points, hollow points, hollow points
Haters shooting for my head and chest
I'm never gonna tuck my chains
Let em hang on my Kevlar vest
Hunnit
-play, day-by-day
Rollin' in my four with sixteen switches
And got sounds for the bitches
Clockin' all the riches, got the hollow points for the snitches
So won't
' baby
Damn, them hollow tips just missed that lil' baby
This is definitely, step to me, get a hysterectomy
Technically I'll murder anyone who
and over here I
Have Mr malcolm Evans who
Through thick and thin
Would surely like to say a word
Of greeting at this festive occasion
Merry Christmas,
pretend to be gangsta (Lil' bitch)
Imagine every hood, you gon' make it up, ain't you?
He done made up dead homies, man this nigga a prankster
I got
'm still wit my hood, Hollow Point still in the glock
But I've been shitted on by these high class hoes
Even these chickens did me wrong, I was just
potent branch
Flossin' in the thug stance, pistol tucked inside my pants
Never underestimate me, playa hate me, see me and hide
Sure as hollow points
sounds for the bitches, clockin' all the riches
Got the hollow points for the snitches
So would you just walk on by, 'cause I'm too hard to lift
and no
niggas
[Lil Jon:]
I wish a mutha fucker would say something
Fuck around and get your goddamn ass whooped
Nigga I feel like startin some shit,
and I
[Mr. Lil One]*Talkin*
Yo this is what we fin to do
[Chorus: Mad One (Mr. Lil One)]
Let's ride ride, slip and slide
(From my side to your side)
slang shots
Hit G spots by giving hoes back shots
I'm a young country boy, long socks with flip flops
But I pull up on your block in the 500 Benz drop
to stunt - I don't need to front
There black history e'ry day - I don't need a month
The survey says - by the streets according
Kanye's just important
So hard to breathe this air that we call love,
Ain't nothing worse than the hurt we receive from love,
When you get hurt by the one you living for,
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