went fast - dead end run money gone - big mistake rising sun - bigger headache go go johnny go! go motherfucker go! right - wrong - what - got it no no johnny
You be a good boy and don't drink too much I'll show you something, maybe one trick Later on, maybe a couple more So step right up and put your music
, I forced it (That's right) Paragon style, I'm fly with it, might be what'chu want With good taste, put you in a good space Sat back, check her shape, good
Intro: (E-40 and Method Man) Uhh! Hey Meth Merchant! Method Man Meth, what's up boy? What's upper? Trying to get my ones up... Crack Alley Studios mang
lazy bitch Don't wanna give up the crack, to the black But you'll call it racial, if we go and rape the ho But eat 'em up yum and you're floored Motherfuck
liners and what I make up will fuck up your skin I pick the buck up and buck buck and buck buck again I will butt fuck your friend then suck up her twin
I make up would fuck up your skin I pick the buck up and buck buck then buck buck again I will butt fuck your friend then suck up her twin I put the buck up
But Johnny had a habit And it wasn't smoking crack In the wrong place at the wrong time He took a bullet in the back Johnny was Johnny was Johnny
["The Wu-Tang Clan will rise again There are many of us, working for the good of the Wu] Tang" "Die!" *sounds of fighting are heard* Verse One: Street
She's got a T-Top Camaro with a scoop on the hood And two big speakers blasting Johnny B. Goode Looking so sweet it oughta be a crime She plays with my
drill fuck him Oral torture, no doubt, the shit is holocaust In two minutes tops he's guaranteed to cap and give up all the morsels It's settled, blitt up
end of the stick I'm on. ask yourself, when will he be seen on each and every TV screen? four legs good, two legs bad, four legs good, two legs bad
the guitar just like a ring in a bell Go, go, go Johnny go, go, go Johnny, go go Go Johnny go, go, go Johnny go go Johnny B. Good
new profession Who wanna see me at eight deep, fuck 3D You coward ass motherfuckers'll never see me Bustin' with automatic straps My raw raps like good crack
flag, but there ain't no stars or stripes Just thugs, a bunch of drugs and the big thick bitches with crack pipes A vigilante gettin panties by some jaked up
She's got a T-top Camaro with a scoop on the hood And two big speakers blasting Johnny B. Goode Looking so sweet it ought-a be a crime She plays with
