Lyrics:
Black chick white guy, does it mean shit, maybe?
I don't know but yo, it never fazed me
But either way here's one tale
Of two like that and what
I'm out the loop
Sittin' at these stats, but I'm much taller hoppin' at the crew
Real nigga, I can't speak it if it's not the truth
No, fuck
six-four, I'm Diddy no tint
I can't hide in New York City
I'm 'bout it in the South, sleep good in the West
Know a chick from Watts with Bad Boy tatted
with hard rocks (yeah).
From napalms to Uzi's I made G's (say what?),
them build up enough Luther by keys.
No gang affiliation, yo I stood on my own
hop, any day
5-8 with double-X-L, pen saggin' blunts draggin'
But never lived well, imagine, a felon on a two-way street
One way is where blood money
at the world every verse
I gotta body shit
I tell the whole story nothin' but truth
They seen the navy blue choking
On things of two
'Cause you're alright with
, it'll hurt less, I guess
Just tell me the truth, it'll hurt less, I guess
I'm numb to the pain, there's no fire, there's no burn
The house down
fucked it up
By lettin her know I was creepin around, with every chick in the town, Buster!
I shoulda known not to trust ya
Listen I'm losin' my life
Southernplayalistic ATLiens in your sock drawer
No lockjaw, we got that raw shit and all the trimmings
Even though we got two albums, this one feel like the beginning
Southernplayalistic ATLiens in your sock drawer
No lockjaw, we got that raw shit and all the trimmings
Even though we got two albums, this one feel like the beginning
his spirit
The known truth: had a bad
Habit for blowing loot
Two niggas on the roof busting
Down at the phone booth
Running for cover at point blank
no saint either I feel that I'm even doing wrong by using this chorus to get through this song
[Chorus: x2]
[Trick Daddy]
You know y'all going
to happen - happen - till your change your mind
Best story I ever heard
The truth about fat Mr X and the young girl
See how far he'll let you go
Before
[Joi Starr (Ghostface Killah)]
I, can't, leave these streets alone, no more (Yeah, yo)
[Ghostface Killah]
Aiyo, I'm skinned up, Nikes is
give me the kick of the day
Emotions take all de talk everyday
Emotions be tellin me what to do
Emotions be makin my day can't u see
I tell u the truth
chance I got
And he would begin to cry
Telling me the stories of his days long gone by
Well he started out in an old jazz band
Up in Chicago town
That old
Now tell the truth; I'm like a mechanic when I work my tool
So brace yourself baby so I can hit you with the mule
Everytime I touch ya I'ma find a new
I don't need a boss chick
Doesn't have a off switch
Doesn't need to no help
Says she'll get it by herself
I want a women that loves herself
That's
Two meetings next tuesday
Im too innovative
Two policemen shooting my people they aiming
Want us pushing tulips
Or pushing up daisies
Got no leverage
of dope with the
Pump by the doorway
True story, niggas'll shoot for me
But I ride out
You heard more than a few stories
I wild out, throw you off
(Taken from a news story concerning two rival gangs fighting
Over East-End Protection rights)
Along the Forest Road, there's hundreds of cars -
us gory as biblical stories, you ignoren' the allegories
Tryin' to feel good; it's Aleister Crowley
Rush of that adrenaline is my medicine
My fuel
Eternally Thug Nigga Hilfigger made by Tommy
So when I speak hope to reach my ??? Mamis
Or come to Papi I love it when its wet and sloppy
In
Let me tell you story bout a kid without a father
Raised by his daughter and taken care by his mother
She always bothered to keep her children in
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