Lyrics:
drama, let me talk to you mami
Maybe you could come to Dirty Jerz, New Jeru, witcha crew
You bring that ass, I'll bring the brew
And hit some
do what I do
When I do, what I do
If you want to step
You gotta play it by the rules
You gotta do what I do
When I do, what I do
Now
Step
and forth (no)
And I promise that I'll get it by force (on God)
Remember the all white Forces (white)
Now we in all white horses (white)
We used to hit
dough, never snitch hood nigga principles and
byebye live by and die by nigga
even when im finger fuckin hoes finga on tha trigger
diamonds in ma crucifix
got that purp and I got that brown and I got that green
When I'm in yo town and I hit your scene in a candy painted car that'll sit so clean
trunk
Rebel, renegade, must stay paid
Not by financial aid, but a raid of hits
Causing me to take long trips
I'm the original teacher of this type of style
2live crew shit, I rap a lot about new shit
This that country rap tune southern fried funky shit
I am the antithesis or opposite of monkey shit
have harnessed in mid November
It only brushed the blossom bracket then soon sacrificed
Lives to icicle jackets when the frosted
I sunk to find the walk
now I'm wide awake
Right now I'm wide awake
Right now I'm wide awake
Hands stay clean 'till the well go dry
One wheel for the clock that we live
echoed through the crowd
Six punks hit, two punks died
All causalities was applied to their side
Human lives has to pass just for talking much trash
We
love, with your ho.
Lesson 2 tells you to do only one thing,
Act cool.
Lesson 3,
Don't be a trick. If she's poor, if she's rich,
If your game is soft
live in California, drive a drop top
Roll by the beach, look at the freaks
jump in my car, I do it every week
DJ's who know call me Mister Short
All
the crib on the floor by my two-way
Now I'm try'nna hold my hammer up, and my pants too
If they don't kill me, they gon' give me a number I can't do
me, talkin' like y'all can't be touched
See by the time y'all realized, I be done touched you up
Blazed you up, your whole style, chump nigga, what?
the slugs out
Love don't live here anymore
I artillery dog
Came wit many foes
Spend ya benz is twenty slow
Get to tha house kick in tha door
You
Knock knock
Come in
You want to fight
I'm gonna win
I'll take you out
In a minute
Step in my flat
See what's in it
I live in the land
'cause the Kane said so
This is the dance floor groove of the album
Presented to you all live from Calvin
Whoops! I meant to say Mister Cee
The disc
life, but just stay in sight
So I'm shootin' for my dreams, hit the booth and it boost my esteem
The Pro Era crew recruitin' in them fiends by the boat
putting out hit's
Tryin' to shoot me
But I'm out in LA on the low livin' Gucci
And lavish
They tryin' to take they money back
It's two to they cabbage
even up my sleeve
A million albums sold and it's hard to believe
Well it's true homeboy, it's not a lie
I used to sell tapes on Sunnyside
I used
platinum albums, two gold
This ninety sick, I'm still in
Worldwide
[Chorus]
I may seem
See that me deal wid realism get guided by all my dream
Now raspberry ripple as you know it is my favorite ice-cream
So when me
Thirty two shots to split ya!
It's all about the cash when I'm fuckin' wit' ya!
John could make ya richer!
Fuck the Prince of Bel-Air!
I
dot org
For education and culture, heads is waitin' for Mos to
Do the album with Kweli, we do it like we suppose to
Nobody come close to my crew, we
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