And you're being kept down START A FIRE We've gotta cut our ties To a life lived in denial I wish I could strike a match And set fire to this fucked
be a victim of the one they call the body snatcher [Verse 2] Many claim to be a gangster but that gangster aint a gangster That gangter is a prankster, yeah, a
a toy soldier, a real gangsta Playa, holdin' me down like an anchor I need a papi, somebody I call daddy Hustla, any hood, he's a boss-a Trapper, under
. Reeves You best believe, my loot's stacked up like a RuPaul weave Punks jump up to get plastered Respect to Wu-Tang and that OL DIRTY BASTARD A lot
off blows, my nation affiliation pitch forks ive choose what the fuck you gon do we bang back hammers im a six point star in a
I'm not a backyard bumpkin I'm from the concrete slab where people taking anything and everything that they can grab what's so bad is a whole lotta grabbin a
my style) It's a emphasis on the simplest sentences Then I give 'em charisma with a laugh and a smile (and a smile) If you want your verses to cost higher
a shit you bitch 'cause I'm a gangsta for life [Verse 3-Kurupt] Prepare to storm, when the storm rain fire and brimstone Spread throughout the plains
TO SONG - not in a Demo version - just in the Full version] You could ask yourself a question Do I feel lucky... well do ya....Punk? (cock of a gun
Do I feel lucky? well do ya punk?" (cock of a gun an Gunshot sound) Beat drops, horns sound (Over a loud speaker) Ladies and gentlemen EAK (man) (VERSE
out there" [chorus] When you look up in the sky, ohh me oh my It's a bird, it's a plane, it's a God damn shame Tela come wicked and you best beware
like a flare, I gave the ball a stare And use my lineman's shoulder as a chair Now I'm flyin' through the air like a superhero I can use this pose for
offended? What you gon' do? Dis me? Go 'head, rhyme, kick a verse, I dare ya Oh, I know it scares ya A bangin' beat, a empty room, a full pen and a
a silver Gat. Fired at the punk and it was all because I had to show the nigga what time it was. Verse 3: Put up the jam and, like a mirage, A sissy
was drunk See a sissy ass punk had to go in my trunk Reached inside cause it's like that Came back out with a silver gat Fired at the punk and it
MOZZARELLLLLAAAAA FETTICUINNNNIIIII PULL UP AT THA BOUNCE IN MI LAMBORGHINI I GUESS I MEAN A LAM I RIDE IT LIKE A RAM NO I.D. I DONT GIVE A DAMN HOOD
jail culture didn't give you that fitted hat to memorize a ghostwritten shit verse and spit it back I won't let your wack rhymes redefine lyricism For a
greed, witness to trickery Now I'm here, ready to die, remember me On a hunt for you bastards to put you out your misery Made a more ? they die with bullet
