Lyrics:
Situations abrupt corrupt reactions so good fucking luck
Hold tongue for passions when you get stuck
We've just begun to smash up the snare drum
That's
smell the roses
I think I smell the roses
But then again, it could be heavenly blues
Gone off the Morning Glory seeds is true
I water these seeds for you
hide...
And I tried... yes I tried!!
You´re like a gun shot, killing what´s in your way...
You´re like a mistake, leading ev´rybody astray...
You´re
Take this gun away
I'm not asking for sympathy
Staring at the screen
I'm not leaving, so you won't win
I'm comfortable to let you go
Waiting
Lay down this latrine in nail bomb,
In the city of Molotov,
In the province of gun,
In a whole off the highway
In the land of two suns.
still 'cause incarceration is for real
Yeah son you know its on
Now who would be the clown in the nine-six to mess around and catch a
fist
I show no
every town,
New pulse, heartbeat!
A vision came to me, in a dream?
Not in a dream while sitting at the subway station
Waiting for the train to take
Load up on guns, bring your friends
It's fun to lose and to pretend
She's over-bored and self-assured
Oh no, I know a dirty word
Hello, hello,
smiles just don't wanna know
As the knifes edge can be seen
As reward for all your effort
All you want is company
So what about you all
You know
Whazzzuup
I have a gun to give you a shot
For your dirty tricks
It's hard to explain
This rage in myself
With your dirty tricks
Get out of my way
to touch
You want beef? Just come to anyone of us
I'm livin' like that thug life wit plenty guns to bust
My rims are like club night, twenty-ones and up
With a needle in his arm and a gun to his head.
He said "I need more money for just one more hit, Or at least one more bullet."
In this land
Gangstas for the gangstas (Repeat 4X)
[Verse 1: BooBonic]
Yo, I'm not concerned wit the rhymes you wrote
I'm at the Sixers game seat close enough
Swimming...quickly in your sea of standards
Drowning nerver truly living at all
Beauty surrounds you
But you gun for paradise none the less
With
Behold the boy, the stranger, the working man's son
With skin like white lightning
And eyes like two shots from a gun
They'll teach him to pray
[Verse One]
I don't bust guns, I bust rhymes to see funds
Four-four caliber tongue, you want some?
Let me know, K.O. flows, ya gots none
Let me know,
standard, to have a dude in my clutch
Sometimes I buck, HOLD ON, the ride gets rough
I feel I must, touch the A+
Double barrel gun baby, we both bust
apart from
all was unknown until you create the game
so it's time
clear our minds
underground
shut your eyes
follow the gun
quench the thirst for
I seized ya
And just like, every blunt needs some green
Every gun needs a beam, every thug needs a queen
She suckin me up, I be sippin the bub
Had
the hood
see-4, cock bells, Market is all good
Got the negro's written in the dead street scrolls
Pictures of gangstas with guns, in hood street clothes
We
and black..
They had been that way for years
She planned her escape once the beatings begun, but she did not know to use a knife or a gun
Alone again,
hair the color of strangers
Mail order breakfast and sign yourself Noriega and his Rangers
Go to college and acknowledge some respect for
Convinced without a gun
Forget the fame of your name they need someone
To blame
For murder one
Chorus (5x)
Change
Strange
This
That
Jazz
Rap
that sound?"
Machine guns fire in a shantytown.
"The American mask of a terrorist clown?"
The stealth jet bombers and mushroom clouds coming down.
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