Lyrics:
the same thang Never had alot of work, but I was doin' what I could Movin' nickles, dimes, twenty's, and ounces all threw my hood Since I had a one yolla
the books, no doubt, medical ones especially My 20's were a brawl, my 30's were a blur My 40's, I'm not so sure, but I'mma make 'em purr My 20's were
Cat's foot iron claw Neuro-surgeons scream for more At paranoia's poison door Twenty first century schizoid man Blood rack barbed wire
(I do it) Blood sweat tears Ace Hood (I do it) Uh! Another day, another dollar Every twenty four I'm thinking money in the power Bills due, money
to lose you like an argument Fuck beef and everybody who started it Walk in to the bar and they card the kid Good (good), 'cause I'm twenty-five, but I only
to the mall and tear down the inside In that Prada, Gucci, full-mink leather (leather) Burberry's cool, Coogi sweater (sweater) Twenty-inches, pop my feather
Twenty five in twenty ten Never going back again Other side of a locked door Thirty nine in twenty four The days were long When we were young
called her Miss Piggy Top her with some (?) and fit her for some twenties (twenties) Playas hate that I be trickin like she's all that I'm love with So
Twenty dollars before the weekend's over So set him up Then let him fall Turn him over in your hands God save the king of New Orleans Got a ticket
Twelve stitches in sixteen rows Two inches overpacking on number ten needles Cast one hundred twenty one stitches And knit one, purl one, repeat
izzat. I'm still one of a kind, win they war with me? Killed twenty-two (22.) MCs, Them wanna make it twenty-three (23!). [FROST/ZUZ CHORUS]
shoulders For 20 years and look at me now I've got something to say About the last 12 months I've lived I'm not the same kid I was when I was younger I just
they'll be gone away) On to another place Pretty soon I'll be gone Twenty-sum odd years of calling God on this mobile phone If it wasn't for my life
a couple of bucks I stay in touch with you homey I get money I get 20 to K I got 20 strips all doin' 20 a day I get cake from buds and haze I'm making dubs
Twenty five years of social research It's the age of the insect man Who pushes buttons and takes back the can It's the age of the Micro Man Who sees
on my shoulders For 20 years and look at me now I've got something to say About the last 12 months I've lived I'm not the same kid I was when I was
Twenty five years of social research It's the age of the insect man Who pushes buttons and takes back the can It's the age of the Micro Man Who sees
a dive When I was ten, I walked again When I was fifteen, I kept my motor clean When I was twenty, I got plenty When I was twenty-five... When I was
Now young bitches got it goin' on and here's a new thing, She looks of twenty-one, but she's under eighteen, Now picture a man with a plan, what's
When I was six I didn't think I'd ever see Twenty-three Now I'd give anything just to recall anything from Twenty-three By the time I'm thirty I
can't win Poor Billy Bonney, you're only twenty one Pat Garrett's got your name on every bullet in his gun Each notch you carved on your six guns,
need But you won't need much baby If you'll just listen to me When your bloodshot eyes see my Twenty-dollar tie Put my hand in my pocket
Ta-ta-ta-tacos And the wetbacks still get twenty cents an hour. We don't wipe our asses on Old Glory, God and Lone Star beer are things we trust. We keep our
want to know you Another twenty cent goodbye I found a pay phone And it's busted Another broken hearted fool But, still, I pick up the receiver
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