Lyrics:
and brothers are hidin'.
Dick-tricklin' at the sunny mutherfucker's are ridin'.
Started with five and, yo, one couldn't take it.
So now there's four 'cause
five guys and their covered in sauce
My brothers like ahki don't fuck with pork
How can the pig try get us to talk
Fat balls and life support
But
friends to call me I need all your referrals
And all your repeat business brother soon as somethings getting a low
I'll just pull you down a fresh box
the law on us
They want us in jails, with bails too high to bond, but am I the Don?
Shit, I'll be out by the morn', word bond
My game is on lock, till
dark and brothers are hidin'.
Dick-tricklin' at the sunny mutherf**ker's are ridin'
Started with five and, yo, one couldn't take it.
So now there's
and a few of
My lines to sedate her
Hm... she grabbed her coat and her bag, we left five minutes later
Yo, if she was a door I wouldn't knock like
licks get the kicks like the Chinese connection
Like Damien, the Omen son, I won't run
I never ran, fryin MC's like the Sudan
Craig Mack is like
avalanche
No time to gallivant I'm trying to spend the rest of my life in the 5 percent
In the 5 percent I'll probably spend 100 rack to make another rack
Que te pasa, you ain't even in my clasa
I'm the wrong one to fuck with
Drive-bys in the truck quick
Fuck you, suck dick, ha
You ain't got no wins in
You know I grew up with
Five sisters and no brothers
I'd be in Sunday school
And they tell us stories of Caine and Abel
You know the first murder
cll Song Lyrics for Glorious Rabbits 2.0
Descending the Stairwell
She's not lost or lonely, She's incredibly wealthy
cnd she worships herself
(169)
I spent my 19th birthday in the hospital
With my brother and my mum
And I know it sounds dumb but I felt like I lost it all
The pain's
of the main reasons I don't give a fuck.
Chances are usually not good
'Cause I freeze with my hands on a hot hood.
And gettin' jacked by the you-know-who.
When
on crabs
4, 5 bitches
I just geeked out the lab
I don't cook in my kitchen
I be calling the lab
1 Chinese
She made real wings
1 whole shooter
How yo clique
Yeah, my wrist niggas need it. My wrist nigga duckin'
Yeah, your stupid ass nigga ain't even hear this shit
I love my lil' brother, but I can't tell him
some
Freedom
Them hoes be weak
Dem hoes be dumb
The song are free but no freedom
I got some weed n OG rum
These nikes made the OG run
5Gs got me a OG gun
dirty
SC fo' thirty steering with my knee
Eating a plate of beef curry gives a fuck
I'm trying to trephinate the game
So play like Chinese good and get
over the world
Tri-state, every five borough
Word up, these brothers been doin this for a minute
man, gettin busy man, just.. cuttin 'em up man
world 'cause these brothers don't slack
They always comin' with the up-to-par
You can call X-Ecutioners the best by far
Know what I'm sayin', yeah
that's a no no
How are you going to judge him by his fruits through a photo
Hit him with a text, brother will you come to Sozo
Only Jesus heaven sent
Yeah
five
And for once I'm alive for this dream imma strive
But when it come to my brothers I tell the truth I never lie
And they goin' hate me till I die but
out, I'm the C-A-S-A-N, the O-V-A
And the rest is F-L-Y
You see I go by the code of the doctor of the mix
And these reasons I'll tell you why
You
you prolly finished
Leave no witness keep your distance
Avoid the cameras by any means
When you flee the scene
Bars of soap too clean
You see us spit
her nose
The theme song will not be written by Jim Webb or Francis Scott Keys
Nor sung by Glen Campbell, Tom Jones, Johnny Cash
Engelbert
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