Lyrics:
[Verse 3-Lil Wyte:]
With bullets wizzin by, children dyin every 36 seconds
It makes it uncomfortable for me to even respect this
With this focused brain
I'm gonna pick you off one by one
So run
Run as fast as you can
I will not stop until I cut the throat of every man
I want everyone dead
I want
fucks children
With his brother Tito and Liza
Minelli in a building a-B-C easy like 1-2-3
Plastic surgery, what has it done to me?
Like dead-alive, your
This is my mother fucking house, eh I'm by the front door
Here about a blond haired bitch name Sisco
She'll do anything for daddy man the bitch go
You better hope I'm chained up, shackled with a yard
I'll snatch you by the neck, bide you like a tech
Wreck fools when I disconnect, make you
Now it's mine, and I'm putting my feet up (black!)
Back to the hood and off to the wild
And I'm hoping you protect your child
And I been blacking out
flawed if you weren't free
Let's not forget ourselves good friend
You and I were almost dead
And you're better off for leaving
Yeah you're better off
with the heat man
And we steppin' on a nigga feet man
80 pair of sneakers came from the D game
Cousin was a Crip, said it was a C thing
Brown bag
then coward duck your head
You don't know who you be fucking with you'se better off, dead
Is what I say, best run the other way
In case of physical
new shoes
Oh problems seem much smaller
When you're four inches taller
You can rise about them low-down blues
The higher the heel, the better I feel
I
off if I'm not around
Six feet under the ground
Even though I'm still alive, I feel dead inside
It's that fact that it's so wrong, but it feels so
with the heat man
And we steppin' on a nigga feet man
80 pair of sneakers came from the D game
Cousin was a Crip, said it was a C thing
Brown bag
groupie, I'm captain of the ship
(yeah)
I'm a sexy motherfucker
Wants to sweep you off your feet
You better make it dirty, babe
(Make it dirty)
Cause your
they all wanted me dead
In loneliness I found some friends
I touched the knife without amends
Betrayed by those I thought were the best
I lost what I
please believe
It's murda.. please believe
I-N-C.. niggas what's fuckin with me?
R-U-L-E.. love me or hate me.. baby
Refer to 3:36.. baby
That's the rule..
(Gangsta Grizillz)
Janeice, I see you (I ain't cut it off, I just hung up)
It's Gangsta Grillz, you bastards (yeah)
Cover my tracks like butter, so
paper I stack books.
You heard what I said,
I can put you on your feet
Or put some money on your head.
Life ain't cheap,
You're better off dead.
If
Cartagena
Kicking ass as I blast off heat, and
You never see me talk to police, though
You should know that I really don't care
Pull you by the hair, slit
hearty jigs, the water round me bubbling
When off Holyhead wished meself was dead
Or better far instead
On the rocky road to Dublin
One two three four
all types of things in this Maybach (Maybach)
Kick off your shoes, relax your feet, while I play that (play what?)
That nineties R&B, yeah, house
the water round me bubbling;
When off Holyhead I wished meself was dead,
Or better for instead on the rocky road to Dublin.
One, two, three four, five,
And when your feet cold, mines is sizzlin'
It's plain to see, niggas can't fuck with me
'Cause I'm a be that nigga for life
This is not an image, this is
on Sinai none higher than I
Roll up, like that good kush that they've
Been smokin' since 5
Pull out like 2 9’s and I
Aim it dead at they eyes
And tell them
tonight
Come home with me, little Matty Groves, and sleep with me till light"
"Oh, I can't come home, I won't come home and sleep with you tonight
By
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