Lyrics:
and pissin' on they graves
Another nigga, other nigga name on your chain
And they call me a slave
Niggas scared of this country boy, lord forbid I catch
and pissin' on they graves
Another nigga, other nigga name on your chain
And they call me a slave
Niggas scared of this country boy, lord forbid I catch
on
Let the cries out
Wave a whole chicken by his
Legs near the crotch smells
Sweating bullets in the tip
Blow torching his flesh
I seen his face melt
Drip
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
(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
ain't the shooter
(?)
Riding shotty in the chevy (?) know as a Krueger
Lyrical ruler (?)
You lukewarm, boy, go get you a cooler please
Your bitch
named Screw
And I got that boy Key-C in here
And that boy Poyo in these hoes' ear
And we coming through wit that boy Fliggity Flea
Coming out the 3,
named Screw
And I got that boy Key-C in here
And that boy Poyo in these hoes' ear
And we coming through wit that boy Fliggity Flea
Coming out the 3,
as a body count?
You don't bang heavy metal
Last time you seen a Body Count on your hands
Was when Ice T put his first album out
You ain't a gangster you're
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
Follow me
Out of the monotony welcome into prophecy
This is where your higher self finds its homogeny
With the lower self and combines the cacophony
my worst album (Huh? The Fuck?)
Maybe my baddest album
Sure not BAD-like, but I don't mind
if it's gon' be BAD-legendary album (Shout out MJ)
I
out the story of my life
But it's time to put a change in, improvise
Take a minute or wherever
Your attention interlies
You're begging for my time
Like
out
Flash in, flash out
Fam, my album's now in stores
Flash in, flash out
Flash in, flash out
Flash in, flash out
Flash in, flash out
Share it with your
Fly-By-The-Seat-Of-His-Pants parasail
Fall, hit the trampoline, bounce and grab a pair of stilts
And I ain't wearin' zilch, zip, zero, nothing, no, nada
Like your father
never die I'll be a hustler motherfuckers
And makin' thugs out you suckers from the cradle to the grave
From the cradle to the grave (from the cradle
in it
You see they diss us, but they ain't hate us
They wanna say my name in a lyric
You make an album to show your talent
But instead
Ghetts made
Linford Christie
Then if I see a fence I'm a hurdler
Jump in your back garden like a burglar
And boy better know the
Difference between sending
For the 9
representing the Git It Boyz
This your boy Chingy
And matter of fact,
I wanna shout out everybody who had something to do with this album
The Features
know what I'm speaking
With gasoline seeping out (Fuck that shit, boy)
Extendo is peeking out, the lookout is peeking out
You know I ain't preaching,
Frayser Boy album, "Me Being Me"
Came out a couple of months ago, so get that, with that single
The hit, "I Got That Drank" on it, it's goin' down
Comin'
bottles of Ciroc
And bowls of red grapes members of
Meek's entourage
Old friends who he now semi-employs
For a variety of unspecific tasks
Drift in and out
We straight
Extra, extra read all about it
The Legit Ballers came out with with an unbelievable album
Fuck a truce put the side on the news
Got
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