Lyrics:
guessed it! God done over by customs, the pair of us, didn't we? So there we
are standing there, "Hello hello hello! What you been up to, you naughty boys
throw)
They hate your boy cause he
Ripping up your track
I was gone for a minute but now I'm back
I never fall victim to the struggle
Keep your eyes
you ever think of stopping me, Bblow it out ya ass!
I'm a hustler by nature but criminal by law
Any charges set against me, chunk it up and stand tall
for Lionel
(Black ass nigga)
They be duckin' us niggas, shout out to Donald Sterling
Boy lets get a scrimmage, I'll cut some niggas, I'll bring
out clothes, I already started booking studio sessions
I started arranging my album, thinking of marketing schemes, man, I was ready to go
And,
(Spoken by the Gangsta)
Hmmph! A dedication to all them homeboys a
Nd all them homegirls out there that done passed away
Dirty boys dedicate this
Flea
Comin out the 3, cuttin hairs with that boy J-o-e
Yeah that nigga Joe
I done came through, Big Moe never been no hoe
I'm up on this tape, never
Comin out the 3, cuttin hairs with that boy J-o-e
Yeah that nigga Joe
I done came through, Big Moe never been no hoe
I'm up on this tape, never gonna hate
trying to rearrange other artist
Street dates, in fear of a wipe out in retail inter chart movement
Although no one knows the exact cause of the new album
these niggas but I'm not gon' cry
I'm a Bad Boy killa, Jay-Z die too
Lookin' out for Mobb Deep, nigga when I find you
Weak motherfuckers don't deserve
pollinated by the "Be"
Pac called it the rose that rose from concrete
How do you define divine that finds street?
"Hip bop," the color of my leaves
Not
I'm not gonna cry
I'm a Bad Boy killer, Jay-Z die too
Looking out for Mobb Deep: nigga, when I find you
Weak motherfuckers don't deserve to breathe
With an architectural design by TraxNYC, believe it
I'd ask to rock it, but I might fall
And by the way, how much of a ball was Live at Carnegie Hall?
greaze but I bet that's fake
Dem boy dere never dropped no heat
Therefore, I will not check man's tape
Kick a man's face like Ong-Bak
Blacked-out
leaving me no choice, but to raise these three kids all by myself
I will not wait for you
A gift
To come home
I threw the candles out
Left your food
Freeze my heart locked in a ice box minus 30 degrees
I'm on my sub zero shit I be letting it breeze
Just made my album in a week I did that shit with
with a pride
City boy, fuck it up fuck it up fuck it up
Always on the roam, this city's my home
If I die, you can write the album title on my stone
Never
make a plan, a plan
The man who made this album
I hope the outcome
Is how I wanted
I am being taunted
By idiots
Y'all is hideous
This album shall be
of cottonmouths try'na start a problem now
Talkin' shit when I am not around and I'ma knock you out
This that Bobby Boy logical jam
Sad that he left the game but
they talkin' about?
See them diamonds flashin' come
And catch the photo
High off life but I'm sittin' solo
Bitches fall out, real niggas fall in
Sharks
must be crazy, nigga
Onе song for my deluxe is all I need to do
These puppies barkin'
They done bit off more than they can chew
My album just dropped
I'm
pumpin' 93 say, "What's up
Church?" when I ride by in
That blacked out Ford GT
They write me stuff in my PO
Tell me 'bout their broken homes
Tell me 'bout
mills
My boy kitchen's done, lookin' like a flour mill
You niggas' faces lookin' like you drink sour milk
And your albums like some mothafuckin' fire
on a
brand new album! Yes! Oooh, it's gonna be out later this year. And we may, or we may not, you never
know, have another four top ten singles, thanks to you
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