Lyrics:
yeah
I want to fight you, yeah
Put your hands up, nigga
Put your hands up, bitch
Put your hands up, hoe
Put your hands up, trick
Fuck these rental
All of my imagination
Even my self-preservation
Is yours in time
Music by Peter Furler / Lyrics by Peter Furler, Steve Taylor and Phil Joel
©©2002
savages to roam in the streets
Live on the run, police payin' me to give in my gun
Trick my wisdom with the system that imprisoned my son
Smoke a gold
savages to roam in the streets
Live on the run, police payin' me to give in my gun
Trick my wisdom with the system that imprisoned my son
Smoke a gold
Peggy, Eliza (work!)
Daddy said to be home by sundown
Daddy doesn't need to know
Daddy said not to go downtown
Like I said, you're free to go
But
flabbergasted
By the way your ass fit
Aye did I mention?
That you's a bad bih
With a fatty
So lemme be your daddy
Ooh, I wanna ride it
Call her over here
Ooh,
fold (One hunnit)
One night with Monroe I'll have your soul (Gimme dat)
Call me Shang Sung trick pay ya toll (Fatality )
Ask about me bitch I'm only
much I really want you here with me
I don't believe you are gone forever
Can somebody please tell me where is my daddy
Cause I want to see him, so bad
restricted to hold nothing but self
How can you get a grip?
How can you pick up what you're dealt?
The clown stays sad.
The ground stays hard.
With a couple
Trick Trick]
The godfather n the king of the d
leaving these niggas slept butt ass naked
like they was sleepin' with me
you little bad mouth faggit ass
a pussy sour
Pump it hour after hour, stank bitches gone shower
I see bitches handeling niggas, hoe try to be hard
Nigga don't let them pull your card, if
terrorize and torture
Your ghetto resource'll be pay back, pay back
Little Lay that, young nigga with scrilla
And bitch I thought you knew
You got a beam
aim at your flesh
And niggas gon' aim at your chest
We studied how to sell us some crack and then we had learn to finesse
Lil Mexico playin' with
a Tesla shooting yellin nigga drive...
But I'm ...
Tryna be a nigga with a drive ..
But I'm ...
Not even a nigga who can drive...
Bow your heads...
Like
I'm probably not the man you take me for
But I bet I could be if you make me yours
Most of the shit I say is true
When I'm done with bad bitches,
Yo
You thought you could just play me
I'm not one of them little ting
You cannot run that game by me
Move with your bad self bad
Run with your bad
on (pimp on)
Pimp on (pimp on) pimp pimp on!
Then get your pimp on
Pimp pimp on (and if you want it the 'Llac with three hoes in the back)
Pimp-pimp
Ooouuu daddy I like it
Black child black child
Won't you rise above the hate?
Let your dreams elevate
Come tomorrow we gone celebrate
Black child
with a ball of chain
A barbarian on paper
Every bars tailored for your Paul Bearer
Allahu Akbar
A battling rap god slash bar maker
Bar Mitzvah glass jaw
"Want to see the world, ain't scared to do it
Even if, your shocked by it
Me and you, lost when you do it
By myself, better off bein' you"
They ain't bout shit fuck them mother fuckers
Gone with all that shit go-gone with all that shit
Gone with all that shit go-gone with all that shit
Gone
self
Bad in my Benz, bad wid me belt
Big bad bitch pan me hip a bring a friend
Pop off a gun shot a buss innah yo, shut the fuck up
Me a the dan a your
I need a girl who'll ride for me (Keep her self real fly)
Damn near die for me (Staying by my side)
Go to court for me (Stand up and cry)
Pay my
on
Gotta get you game together man, all your women gone
To start all over, ain't nothin' to a mack
Just put 'em to work, and watch yo' money stack
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