Lyrics:
wanted by America
(Hey yo Cube man, they on your ass)
Word, but who the fuck has heard?
It's time to take a trip to the suburbs
Let em see a nigga
serve them dope boys
I see so many crack babies and laid bitches
Out by the bus stop hounded for a nigga's riches
I just fuck em' then duck em' and then
I am pursuing that number one album, worldwide
And fuck whoever doubt him
Under the spotlight, neither black nor white
It doesn't matter (do
a meeting getting my ass kissed (no homo)
By a white man 'cause his daughter fuck with my ad-libs (uh-oh)
I done dropped dick in her friend, I'm like, "My
What's up y'all? It's the mean-ster green-ster
This should be played in residential neighborhoods
Clubs, cars, at high volume
Get (?) wodies,
Thumbs all green from cilantro
African, killers from the Congo
And Latin niggas with spears, a ill combo
'Cause we don't fuck with 'em niggas
No, no,
the way we fuck them purps
Kick em up by the fortunes and
Then we get to the new
Reppin this money hard all the
Way from the first all my niggas is real
the fuck you going now?
Not a day goes by where I don't think about you
Couldn't tell you how I feel so I wrote an album
She stole my heart, discounted
Cupid
game, heroin in
The vain, fuck'n with there brains. Who the next nigga
Ta get popped by a cop? Who the next in the hood 2
Get shot? I hope it ain't me,
you're gettin' fucked out your green by a white boy
With no Vaseline
("Now you're gettin' done without Vaseline")
("Now you're gettin' done without
on the riddle
Fuck all the little shit
I'm over and out, get rid of it, don't want any bit of it
My last album, I know you bit a bit of it
My shit is dope,
of the streets (I know)
Live bad to die good
Know how to move when hustlin' by the days with no food
But just so I can eat (fuck)
And ain't it a bitch
And if
you wack rappers hit the floor
[2pac]
How should I plead forever thuggin on a quest to get G's
Runnin from enemies ever since the days of a seed
on the train witcha backpack tight
and keep rappin', I'm floatin past all the stops
In a clean ass Benz I have all the props
Fuck credit from a rapper can you
Bin Laden weed
Y'all don't know nothing bout this down South
So I was like, what, what the fuck is Bin Laden weed?
Man he said that shit is like
green like Margaritas
Sold yayo, I sold albums, might as well sell some Tequila
Dropped so many Lambos, thought I was a Lam ambassador
Dropped so many
ignorance is bliss
Now everybody put your hands up high
If you don't give a fuck, put your hands up high
This the hardest shit you've heard from LA this far
Bin Laden weed
Y'all don't know nothing bout this down South
So I was like, what, what the fuck is Bin Laden weed?
Man he said that shit is like
fans like crack fiends
Until we re-up, and put more Infamous up on the rap scene
Mix the coke rhymes in greases like baking soda
Albums of G-packs
keep it started
Yeah, yeah, violater the album
Go, go, go!!
[l boogie]
This is for my mob and my thug niggas
Ruff ryder bug niggas, def jam website
anybody here all day, shit I trizit to my clizit
Who want to fuck wit it, since tha World is a ghetto
looks like I'm stuck wit it, Killa Cali is
You're like a kid you found a pup and now you're dapper
But tell me where the fuck you found an anorexic rapper
Talkin' bout who you gon' squabble with
with the light
Fuck around, took a nigga bitch, now a nigga wanna start a fight
Nigga wanna take me out the zone
Workin' out, liftin' this strong
I
in my grill
They must know that I got bird stashed all up in my grill
Camouflage by the armor all while it's sparkling off my wheels
And I fuck hoes
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