Lyrics:
stranglin' babies
See, it's death to all my enemies that's RIP only tactic
But if by chance we kill each other our souls'll go at it
See I'm doggin'
and culture
Seeing my people in the street like vultures
To my eyes this is torture
It causes my eyes to water
Times dread inna babylon
10, 000 Locked up inna
in southern comfort
Got my Slim Shady sticker on your mother's bumper
She came home screamin a bunch of motherfuckers jumped her
[Proof]
Ay yo
Pursue
thunder
Now I feel strange when I walk by his mother
It's fucked up that's how the ball bounce
The cookie crumbles
That's what the guns do dead you
In order for me to be happy
I need to let some of these so called conspiracies out in my poetry
Because there's some truth to these things, you may
talking Practice
All ma niggas got my back like chiropractors
Don't it feel Good
Yea it feels good
Don't it feel good
Yea it feels good
I'm the mother
twister (yeah)
It's the now I'm the maniac with the flow (what?)
til I knock out your regulars and your gold teeth (nigga)
Be doin' my thing
ima mother fuckin get it
People hear my bars and they really got to admit it
Every time I spit I'm quick with that sickness
Do it by myself don't need
to top all the loosed ends
My homeboy lost his sista in a carry
He's still alive but through her eyes he done saw her death
And when he came he was
a maniac
[Sticky Fingaz]
It's pure you see, I bring fame
They call me Nigga So Much, startin to think it's my name
Light skinned and a shame, cuz way back
That's why I serve here now
I miss the green pastures of home
The hills and the mountains I roamed
The smell of my mother, the yell from my father,
PAPER
Nobody does me better
Nobody instrumental by Robin Wesley
Nobody can do me better
Than All My Paper
Nobody can do me better
Than All
surface
To be committed by the CIA
Criminals in the army engage in war games
'cause we're living in the last days
Most killers make you hate
The world is
mother Earth, had to give Young Ferg a verse
A lot of homies cried, due to crimes, homicide
Drivin' by, poppin' nines, Pakistan, Columbine
Out of line,
Yankee hearted
When the Spanish War was started
He slipped upon his uniform
And hopped up on a pony
My mother's mother was a Yankee true
My father's
'Cause when I put rhymes in they minds yo
For all y'all folks who were hopin' and wishin'
And I can assault, tryin'a take my position
Stop
War II
Got my soldier suit and my Timberland boots
Girl I'm down for whatever cause my love is true
(So I tell her) I'm at war with the love of my
Where my volcanoes at?
You're looking at the mother fucking truth but there's nothing you can do
bout to lose your last 2 brain cells
Digging thru
alive
Like they're cattle being slaughtered all repeatedly by a knife!
Until I finally get my sanity back without any regrets
From my homicidal behavior I
about that there
Cause I ain't dyin' in the middle of nowhere
Another statistic, a body in a drawer
Man! mother fuck a war!
Chorus x2
Your lucky that I
my soul
Have mercy on me
Forgive me, Lord
Don't blame my soul
Have mercy on me
Lord, oh Lord
Forgive me my sins
And send the angels
To be by my side
Ain't no daddies where I'm from
It's just mad mothers
And eyes that still seem
They can't look past color
Why am I disrespected by
Someone I
Sun's up, time to put my fake face on
They think that I'm a maniac but they're so wrong
It gets so lonely, I don't know what planet I'm on
They say
da 5’9 wasn’t included in that sentence,
And its always a good day when I’m blasting tunes,
By the mother fuckin country boys, the nappy roots,
Cowboy
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