Lyrics:
let go, I would never have left them
But I'm still a lone wolf, like a dangerous, deadly leopard
Sneaking up, creeping up
Dead silent, there ain't no
[Master P talking]
G man, why don't you go on, pass the dank
Let's take a lil' break ya know whatb I'm sayin'
Before we finish this album up
world is fuckin dyin
[Chorus I (2X)]
[C-Murder]
My nigga dead, my nigga died, how the fuck you figure
Another victim, my brother was a drug deala
I'm
That's his first album
He start Shoot like a starter
Gripping on pressies
I call that the dead hand
Pop worked in bakeries
Bitch now I'm the bread man
No
it out by the time that I'm 30
Had a dream I was in room 29, that sh** was great
With two different women, meaning 2 got ate (8)
One was 27, the other
car
Blowing horns like Miles Davis
At the pearly gate, God let me in
Give me a room by Aaliyah with ESPN
I know I got more sins than two lesbians
Been
just don't confuse it
What happens, these dudes get rude and then I lose it
I'm scandalous, I blow your two kids off the atlas
With a gat that's
just don't confuse it
What happens, these dudes get rude and then I lose it
I'm scandalous, I blow your two kids off the atlas
With a gat that's
like outhouse
I’m outtie like the outro
Every fives seconds man I drop
Another album
(Verse 2 )
Life is a shot to the pelvis
And murk you
Put 2 in his legs
I’m on a pill that’s red
Feel like the one who choosen
By the way hoes been giving me head
...Damn near leaving me dead
Damn there
the fam
Till I'm dead wit the fam
Duck cops. Shake feds wit the fam
Flip them pies wit my hustlas (uh huh)
Ride for my hustlas
Die for my, lie for my, cry
Negro Spirituals
'Cause I'm popper than pop
Probably popping charts and I won't stop
Since I'm by myself to knock it out the park
No conflict between my
drummer
Yeah, I could use twelve drummers, yeah
The Grateful Dead had two drummers
Dude, Slipknot has like ten, yeah
Did you get to, like, choose which
of my joints
And I still got two
Steps ahead, don't sleep just rest my head
Bless the dead
'til the day we meet I'm through
"Y'all hear me?", "I spit it
Happy holidays
Let me come here and talk to you
I gotta stop sayin' I'm not doin' this shit no more knowin' I'm cappin'
(Great John on the beat by
in my eyes but what I see could be fabricated
Already dead, on my day to day
I'm a tortured soul, no brand or label
Defeated
But driven by hope
an author on them drills I'm tryna kill niggas
Fuck the front I'm back I pull a hell cause I'm a witch but I just popped two purses
It ain't no way that I'm
bitch would
But you niggas too weak, but just give me 2 weeks
And I'm good
I'll make an album that'll put a smile on Malcolm
Make Martin Luther tell
got down with the git down for Illtown.
Figure it's the fine fanny,
I miss my mammy.
And you could ask my uncle Randy,
I'm grateful for my granny
MK, you like a wizard with this shit
Hey, look
Let dividends be dividends, let bygones be bygones
Hit him up, that's two for two, hit his ass, it's
shit hook up
Though how that shit hook up?
Can I get some?
I love that ghetto shit (That ghetto shit)
I love that 2Pac shit (2Pac shit)
I'm that nigga
satisfaction.
Pumping out albums like reverend run is pumping out children; here's another one
Catch me on more 24's than Kiefer Sutherland.
I'm bound to be
Love my niggas
Chill wit the crew
Real wit the crew
4 million sold, look, still wit the crew
Break bread wit the fam
Till I'm dead wit the fam
Duck
my niggas (uh huh)
Chill wit the crew (uh huh)
Real wit the crew
4 million sold, look- still wit the crew
Break bread wit the fam
Till I'm dead
.png/300px-Grateful_Dead_(1970).png "Grateful Dead")
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