Lyrics:
bitch, can't lock for a ho
B.O.E. child, where the fuck is your throat? Nigga about to be 21, now that he broke
Nigga a clown, heard he used to be fucked
the dirt
Ain't no love in new orleans,
All the way to richmond, california
Niggaz livin for ghetto dreams
And the ghetto get so crazy
I seen a little bitty
and this you know
But I only yearn enough for our food and clothes
But I love you and this baby until the day that I die"
She said, "We'll take care
thought
I don't want to say it's your fault
But it's the path you chose to walk
Shouldn't have kept close to the dark
So anybody listening here's food for
downhill
In and out of the wards no stopping
Spent Christmas in the ward by his bedside
It was far from the best times
Yeah, he got diagnosed with cancer
Not
B.Ward my brutha from anotha
Bikelyfe we gotta look out for each other
200 hundred bikes deep we mobbin
A loud motor keep the pussy throbbing
bitch I’m
When I don't believe
That there's been an appointed leader
That didn't rig the election
That's won it to date
(Hmm) Look at that
'Food For Thought'
Like
No hook for this food for thought
Think about it while it’s cooling off
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
No hook for this food for thought
Think about it while
to a sandwich
Scuffed with the police got them thinking mental illness
Escorted to the psych ward by the bobbies
Im in the box, don't mean I'm skrt
In
Catch a nigga by his toe
If he holla stop em
Take his heart and drop em
Take control of his mind and the things that he already know
Even if he beggin
ride
Killers with attitudes, but ready to die
Cause chickens get plucked, hoes get fucked
Turkeys get stuck, and niggas get cuffed
Ready for combat, my
to the NFL
Well
Food for thought I hope it don't go stale
Write my wrongs
Signature and all
Take you down like Breezy, aye
God fearing
In a sinful world
He
your Barney in the backyard
You dug it up with your bare hands—now that’s hard
Karma had a way of sorting that out
Fell out a tree, broken in pieces by
all for yourself, shawty you a ball hog
You all for yourself, shawty, you a ball hog
Thought you was my nigga, shawty, thought you was my dawg
do what I think it's best for me
If I get that supreme before you probably you'll be knocked by a high high
Cause always been your dream to get
food for thought
Maybe it's just food for thought
Tell me you don't want no more then I won't come save you at all
Maybe it's just food for thought
Maybe
A-K-A Charlie Hustleezy
And my Third Ward weepilation
From the No Limit Records Headquarters and congregation
Plugged up and did a rumble together
chilling
I won't be fine
Till I boss up myself
And create boss positions
For all my niggas
If that's not your train of thought
Then why you livin
I can have
of the distance
My people perfect for beating the odds
Melanin magic it make ppl look at themselves & they ponder & wonder the difference
Certain shit gifted by
chocking by and by In the daytime he is busy reliving the past again
In the day his reason works so he is able explain
Food for thought
In his prime
on my mind in the middle of the night
cause I thought I would find
that little light in my life by the time I was
21
I am waiting patiently and trying
the fuck out)
Six in the morning, all I hear is a bell
I thought it was a dream, but no, I'm in jail
Committed a crime and boy, did I fail
21-7 they
but these niggas hate and these niggas fake[01:27.79]They ain't helping you put no food on your plate[01:29.52]And I gotta sacrifice for what's
loved for what you not
So the thing you have to do, is tell these motherfuckers, who you are
I'm Bushwick Bill, but call me Chuckwick!
Fifth Ward
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