Lyrics:
hate me, bitches in the head beatin' 'em (So)
Niggas want to ride by the crib all slow (Oh)
We clap motherfucker, want a real rap show?
Fiends are
You know I'm always on my paper chase
Always get my green, always on my lean
Me and Po-yo fixin to pop up on the scene
In a classic seat
Yeah that's
you that it's mo'to me then fuckin on my mind
'cause in yo mind I bet you fuckin all the time
Come to find you only out tryin to go to school
And tryna
A n--a[Believe Dat]
And Lose Me In The System
But Like C-Murder And Mack
I Refuse To Be A Victim n--a
Chorus:
Devils Get Up Off Me[x8]
courtesy
because I
Like the windows and looking
Outside and stuff
And I think why the album has
Such a bright tone to it
Yo
You got cum in your ear laughs
for the faith
And if got sum to say you better say to my face
Cause I be in ten toes just know I ain’t finna play
Swear they hate to see you eat they
You in the office of the good doc again, let's walk again
It's like clock again, the hood rock again
You should pop it in,ain't take it out
That
smother, the situation's grim
It's bloody sin 'cause every time I want out they pull me back in
I see my reflection in the chrome Mack 10
Ask the passer
the blood, that mean the creep start workin
Niggas never learnin that they eyes keep lurkin
Have ya janitor pumpin your X5 merkin
Skid marks the street,
instrumental
Casket closed
I'm tired I'm wired I'm stressing
I'm back in the booth
With truth confessions
They wanna come swoop
I double them loops
And when I
that
Yo dog I hope you cleaned your strap
"Uh huh, 'cause I puts in work"
Fatal how the hood'll hate you, caught up in drama
Colors and ganja like
that
Yo dog I hope you cleaned your strap
"Uh huh, 'cause I puts in work"
Fatal how the hood'll hate you, caught up in drama
Colors and ganja like
a 10 'cause Bush handin flyers for a party in a prison
I'm in the gucci vest wit the green and red straps
I'm the last rapper to scare niggas since
a 10 'cause Bush handin flyers for a party in a prison
I'm in the gucci vest wit the green and red straps
I'm the last rapper to scare niggas since
to a hundred wit yo eyes closed
Soon every number is a face of
A nigga that's gon die yo
They try to hit me but they too slow
(Daddy, you gon' let him go) i
Flippin' mad pies, low price, I blow dice and throw them
.45 by my scrotum, manifest the Do or Die slogan
My niggas roll in ten M3's
Twenty Gods poppin'
life
Now you living six by eight
Feet
When I step into the booth
Yeah it's octane
Uh
Stained glass windows in the benzo
Lost in the instrumental
Keys got
too
Fucking with the niggas from that fake crew that hate you
But yo, guess who got shot in the dome-piece?
Jerome s niece, on her way home from joes
like that nigga?
What the fuck I got to do not to get banged up by that trigga?
Cause in the projects, ain't no love
Niggaz will split yo wig cause they
first back in they mother's womb
This shit is written, in my eyes I'm the illest MC spittin' (what?)
Leavin' all of you cats shittin' kittens
I gotta
down in two takes
The speaker pops, the Winchester rifle's in the kitchen
Murder the DJ's eyes twitchin, woofer hissin
Yo, he's strong armin,
the long kind extendo
This chick I'm with get it in yo
She said she love it when I cum in
Her face it make her skin glow
I like the girl cuz she like
Girls
tears when you cry
I'm the lightning in bad weather!
I'm that dick in the picture on yo girlfriends dresser
I ain't no ho, I ain't no punk, I
too
Fucking with the niggas from that fake crew that hate you
But yo, guess who got shot in the dome-piece?
Jerome s niece, on her way home from joes
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