Lyrics:
Jim Jones ? Scarz
[Jim Jones]
I?m speeding through my days
off to see tomorrow but you
get one chance at life (one chance)
so if I do die
this friend Fin and
Fin had a hookup with somebody who would buy us Jim
He would hit the Mary J, so I turned ‘n’ said to him
Let me get a couple of them
somebody in this room!)
I hit the back window in search of any Nintendo
DVDs, plasma screen TVs in the trunk
We made a right, then made a left, then made
hit my organs
Thinking about what the game did to Cynthia Morgan
But I give myself a pat on the back
Back to my day shift
Even Mohits and D'Banj
that
The feds watching they gonna use that
Damn Frosty how you do that
Hit the rode til my wheels flat
Can't change your past don't look back
Was
finna lay down
Life is gamble don't play round
Shells hit his body knocked down by the k rounds
Shut the fuck up Letti say what you say now (Ayy)
Fuck all
the old me left, and I am a ghost
Depression hit me, so I hit him back harder
Got rid of depression, I think that I'm smarter
But, I know it'll come back
own genius?
When do you lose the ability to step back
And get a sense of your own ridiculousness?
They're only songs
Midnight, and it's all over
president
Watching my back through jack leading Jack
Trying to mack to your back homeboy you get sacked
By 14 of the hottest mothafuckas on the water bed
ICP
this whole city on lock
Cause my album's hot
And I know that y'all been waitin' a while
So I'mma hit you with this Full
Metal Jackit like Private Pyle,
I see the crystals in the smoke
No na, baby girl don't you choke
Made an album my first year
By God's grace OTM we going clear
I ain't lazy
Do what I
on the telephone
To tell her half of my head was gone
I just got hit by a great big brick
She says thanks for reminding me about that Maverick
Mm hmm, my
So get your egg crashed, by my Hellz Wind Staff
While the feature broadcast is splashed to tell the news
Like Katie Chung, how the bullet collapsed
an erection)
Go nigga, go (ain't shit to fool with)
Young black male
I try to effect by kicking the facts
And stacking much mail
I'm packing a gat 'cause
Tired of these rappers, tired of these jackers
I'm tired of these dances by these fuckin' backpackers
And I'm sick of all these hipsters, I'm sick
well
We are some partying mothafuckas"
Tired of these rappers
Tired of these jackers
I'm tired of these dances
By these fucking backpackers
And I'm sick
for y'all
And my voice is messed up too, this is the last track of Young Sinatra
Yeah, yeah
Back in the day I wasn't shit, homie
Penny pinching I
didn't hear
What they were supposed to hear
Bring that back (bring the back)
(woo, yo)
Yo (damn) Young Buck where my money at man
My niggas is playing
shots pop, you get your top hit (brr)
We doin' drive-bys, we listenin' to Pac shit (boom boom boom)
Hah, stay in your lane, bro, that's all we sayin'
album's hot and your album's not
I done been getting movie deals
I done been getting paid like Vinzel
I done been by ?
And five double o's
And 1 2's
still living at get it understood
Guess they want me to bring it back to the block
Cause they know after Katrina I fucked around got adopted you want
the high road
Fuck that, I'm finna hit back
'Til I run out of gun powder and split the scene
Hold the mic similar to pistol, squeeze
And I shoot from
all my friends
Joey made it out the pen, but I was working on this
By the time I got it finished, he went right back in
Let him down as a friend, didn't
To those leading revolutions
Skitcha’s gunna’s music
Ammunition can be found in decisions made
Fired shots can hit targets from light-years away
Far from
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