Lyrics:
she know you steal from me
Who ill as me? I wild on haters in album three
Next level I take y'all niggas to 3-D
Can't find a nigga shook from Queens
eyes
Said whoever hit him for the average poor asshole
'Bout to be hit for they biggest surprise
Now meanwhile, still short on pot to piss in
Not
knife
Like two wrongs that don't make a right
Yeah, you get the point
Three five in the wood
This fat as hell
Now you can't hit this joint
My brother
you wack rappers hit the floor
[2pac]
How should I plead forever thuggin on a quest to get G's
Runnin from enemies ever since the days of a seed
Even if I made an album
With a Punjabi hit-squad
Clash me, I'll make you jump like Kris Kross
Make a man know, that I'm not a nimrod
And if you still
that's
There's a lot of percussion
There was yeah
Lots of things getting hit by other things
A notch down
Ctrl+A
Kay, now we're ready
Ctrl+C
We literally
of trouble
Double crossed by the law so theres nobody to run to
Yeah, its just me and my sawed off shotgun
Outlaw, call him Leather Face
Im headed for
[Shag]
Gimmie that beat, bitch! ([vocal sample:] "We Are At War")
Ding Ding Muthafucka
It's round two
I got my lunch and my dinner fool
You think we
thick queen
Niggas hating, I'm just watchin' on the big screen
3 stacks on the beat and the kicks mean
When 16 ain't enough, you know how sometimes you
And now coming down the aisle (uh)
Accompanied by no-motherfuckin'-body, it's young Bronny (it's me)
Yeah, steppin' to the plate like Barry with
grassroots resistance to private prisons
Won't lie
Kinda been waiting
Happy Tara taught me the art of documentation
Turned it to an album
It's been 2 years
verse, but it's kingdom work 'til I hit the dirt (one)
Moment of Truth 3
For those that don't know what a moment of truth be
This whole album's
eyes
Said whoever hit him for the average poor asshole
'Bout to be hit for they biggest surprise
Now meanwhile, still short on pot to piss in
Not
drinks
Haunted by the thoughts of
Second album sophomore jinx
Where did I fail? Death threats
Woke up in cold sweats
Thinkin' about all these murders that
Geheimtipps des MI6
Immer bunte Scheine in den motherfucking Geldschein-Clips, ah
2Pac im Tapedeck, „I Get Around“
Goldschallplatten überall im Treppenhaus
to king, wit a million
MC's waitin in line
Keep a barrel on this album if my man's and them rise
[Method Man]
Now speed it up, uh
[Chorus: x 2]
Run
and cussin
It was ten below
Timberland
Ginuwine
Missy hoe
Get the bag
TT
Set it off here we go
Queen and slim
Us baby never them
Poetic on wax
Relax
Just let
and Chrissy
We was kissin and cussin
It was ten below
Timberland
Ginuwine
Missy hoe
Get the bag
TT
Set it off here we go
Queen and slim
Us baby never them
ain’t tryna meet
Catch the neck then I skeet
The same for you is the same for me
I fuck 2 bitches then I leave
Then I just go then repeat
I bring the sour
you into nasty foreplay
I hit a nerve that you went delay
Nigga want straight fact
Imma just give that
Let me hit a nerve
When the gun goes click clack
live and ball
Ya bitch ima live and ball
Hit the mall I spend it all
Mirror mirror on the wall who's the hardest of em all
Me bitch like you better come
look like they'll pop through beaters
And the hips won't fit in the L-drop two-seater
But ma' I ain't the type to love ya
I'm a triflin', good for
beaters
And the hips won't fit in the L-drop two-seater
But ma' I ain't the type to love ya
I'm a triflin, good for nothin, type a brother
This cute
there's kidnap, but she was with us so I brought her.
Dun got myself into a whole heap of trouble,
Double crossed by the law so it's nobody to run to,
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