Lyrics:
the ladies come quick
The money can't fit in my pockets
But I bet that gun fit
And I'm so unfit
'Cause all I eat is rappers
And these rappers ain't shit
back stand by thats a threat to my black life
Ready to grab 44 because of 45
Two hundred thousand Americans plus died
Never been on pace to make
that act shitty
In the midst of the calm, the witty
[Lady Luck]
Yo SHUT THE FUCK UP!
Luck said "SHUT THE FUCK UP!"
Bitches in the back, like crack
What’s happening y’all? It’s
Terrace Martin, ay, so check it out
I got three microphones, three of the
Dopest emcees, a drum machine
Two turntables
the F know
But death row
I'm coming by the inches
And them niggaz outside on the benches
Don't think that we in the trenches
Cause we got a 600
And we
witnesses
I'm the truth
Still, I remain calm like a soldier in war
Surrounded by, three bombs, cautious
Shots keep coming like I got three arms
Two trigger
Back it on d road
Lemme see you fling it on d road
On d road (3 times )
On d road
Ladies Back it on d road
Lemme see you fling it on d road
On d road (3
by, that I ain't high
Hit da mall everyday, nigga, I stay fly
26 inches, yeah, I'm sittin' up high
And I'ma keep it hood, homie, dat's no lie
Not
far its blood money
Yes money
Now I got a lot before it was no money
Don poppin'
Brunches by the bay discussion new money
Tag poppin'
Ferragamo
your fist clenches, you're pissed
You just wanna get someone with shit, jump on this
You're 'bout to get your shit pushed in, I'm just inches away
your head down
Or it's your blood on the streets
Who's that knocking
Do you have a fuckin deathwish?
Got a slipknot by the bedside
And an uzi if you're
in the Expedition
I'm on chrome, 20 inches you know who I be
Oh yes, you know me
4 feet, millionaire, that's H-O-T
Whoa-ty, slow down, you might be
climbing on
She said "The Abacycle guarantees ten
Inches off your waist
And 50 pounds in just 3 minutes a day"
I went to bed knowing the
Revolution had been
intravenous
It's war and we fighting for inches and millimetres
Try to stall the progress by killing off all the leaders
If we don't give them martyrs no
mall everyday, nigga, I stay fly
26 inches, yeah, I'm sittin' up high
And I'ma keep it hood, homie, dat's no lie
Not day goes by, that I ain't high
Hit
delegates and panelists all representin they nationalism
And the battle inches on, every section separated
By eth-nic features decorated veterans deliverin
n****
Lt Ja tell it, that's murder inc boy's, that's real killers
Money laundering, tax avaid and drug dealers
Backed by chemical grit, you can't be
travel to the spots where the ladies lay, Catchin' sun there ain't no rainy days As I parade through your scenery, the greenery can get you fated Elevated
pain
I can get you John Doe by a no name
Catch him at the Chinese store
Pulled two sticks on him, we eatin' Lo Mein
Nah nigga, Smack can't hear
(hair)
talking about Faith when loved being called Big Poppa by ladies in the place with the style and grace
And was those the same honeys getting money playing
Misunderstood"
Play it for the First Lady, she ain't feeling any good
Play Don Henley, play Glenn Frey
Take it to the limit and let it go by
Play it for Carl
Come four by four, lose one like Dru Hill
Stay fly 'til you air sick, now that's ill
Two choices, either squeeze or peel, now that's real
What
by 4 inches
I'm a grimy nigga so I like my bitches cruddy
My clothes dirty, dick shitty, and my knife bloody
I did too much dirt to turn back now
I'm
wanted your attention. And you ta take these inches. Wud put cho legs up by my head them deeper strokes was fittin. Wud grab yo waist pick up the pace
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