Lyrics:
by the street stories get double crossed
hands off I run with the torch
[Method Man]
They got me fed up from the head up
put up or shut up
them punk muthafuckas buckle up for safety
A bitch, a pickle, a chicken, a clique, niggas is sick
For they skits and they scurges
Now I'm pimpin
uh
MIA uh
But it's been that way yeah
I'll be back for the summer
MIA uh
I've been MIA uh
But it's been that way uh
I'll be back for the summer ay
MIA
4 moving parts, chorus by Tiffany
Back then I didn't want your sympathy
Right now I watch these bitches
All simp for me
Crazy how that talk about me
reading writing keep on fightin/
Im not very much liked by the cops/
I know they think Im too cocky for a shink/
-I can smell their racism cuz the shit
[Mia X]
Woke one morning, tears in my eyes
The feds kicked in the door and caught me and my baby by surprise
He got high, but they didn't find no
fuck it, oh well
A nigga flow so well, I'm like a sampling kit
Give a fuck 'bout who get pissed about by samples and skits
Niggas mad I'm remixing
My heart is yearnin for your, let me inside your love
Whatcha want to Do?
Outro: Mia X(Charlie Wilson)
Now what we gonna do?
I can't help but
can realign
I know love is in my design because
I treat my worst demons so kind
Intoxicated by the lunacy I call it moonshine
Getting out of line in my
Scoob if we was playin cards
But if I got beef and it's time for code red
My drill is like a hoe, and be takin mad niggaz to bed
So hurry up
going insane
Cus the pains now feels like gains
I don pray
I don fast
I don cry
I don do all the things I don try
Pour holy water for my head
Same water
1, 2, T-R-U, and Mia X, the biggest mamma.
Click tight, for life, family ties.
That's right. It's bigger than this record shit, nigga.
All for
a dance war skit
The por, the por, the Porridge got crazy cold
We won't, we won't eat until the heads are flown
Take advantage to a cool one's peaceful
[Verse 1]
Yo, this for my niggas, though, special delivery
Spit like this, get my wrists all glittery
Get cake, snakes get slithery
Lean in, show
And leave a crowd drippin' like John the Baptist, it's
The cause of that, "Oh shit!"
The skits I kick, flows like catfish
And got many emcees
Two times for the drummer 'fore I start it I say
"Hit me!"
Puba's kickin' flavor, and I brought somebody with me
Positive, the gentlemen,
Bangers in my head and I'm going skits now
Tell her look away because I'm going skits now
Back then you was there for me but you ain't my bitch now
Bitch we
shit
Watch when karma come around see all them tables flip
Contemplating every move yet I'm thinking quick
Sometimes hoping for the best when all
my lane
Washed by his blood
Loved by the father
Redeemed to the lamb
Father forgive me for all of my sins
As I forgive those whose trespass my lane
Riveting as rosie, pockets full of posies
Given to the mother of the deceased
Awake and at war 'til I'm resting in peace
You going over niggas heads, lu
I'm ah shooter he ah shooter we some drillaz in these streets
I'm ah shooter for my brother and my brother shoot for me
I am quick to hit ah skit if
Chandelier in my ear, tree lit up
Neck look like Christmas
Once you say fuck everyone
Seem like they get to listening
I thank god for gifts that he gave to me
Tired of niggas Talking sick but they
Ain't ever pulled a skit
It's a body count attached to
Every nigga that I'm with
I'm the nigga people call for
Boxes
a bit
Getting lit, life's a movie no skit
We in yo momma haus and we smokin' all this Laos
We're really fucking stupid, our IQ is undisputed
Yeah I
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