Lyrics:
lord is in my veins
Burn the fat and play that voodoo banjo
Black wing bird up in the tree
Dead mans song that he sings for me
Burn the fat and play
Back at'cha
How we do
Primo, Jigga-man
History in the making
Let's go
Uhh, uh huh uh uhh
Uh huh uh uhh, uhh
I spit the murder, murder,
Back at'cha
How we do
Primo, Jigga-Man
History in the making
Let's go
Uhh, uh-huh-uh-UHH
Uh-huh-uh-uhh, uhh
I spit the murder-murder-murderous
than that as matter of fact
Me trying to rap is what whites expect from a black
But to hip-hop I'm a old head plus a false poet
Can't be myself I'm
from the old heads
Man all my peers a lil more dense
Ion mean no offense
Ion want no gate might have to leave em caged in a gold fence
Ion sit on no
bro when he’s anti bang mans face now your lips all open ,
not a jay1 ting I ain’t joking ,
Man just got a potion , that’s a 22 drink man mix that wit
the black sky
Get you lower than the floor
Hey, old man
When I'm going six feet down
You gotta make that promise to me
A stained glass cross looking
the black sky
Get you lower than the floor
Hey, old man
When I'm going six feet down
You gotta make that promise to me
A stained glass cross looking
Old man races to the shore
shelters from the storm
Young man turns to face the waves
crashing over the bow
Can't walk across that water
it can't
Most of em ain een worthy to be enemies
All you see is the reflection of the inner me
Had to boot the old flame Black and Vietnamese
Lil foreign Chick
My momma, in 1967, pickin' cotton
While other blacks was gettin' liberated, boycottin'
My old man was a player, ain't no hidin' that
He started
that craazy old weak assed shit
and after all of that
She still walked away
How ya gonna diss your boy
To get some play?
And when I stepped to him about
folks angry, pointin', swearin' at it
Buildings I sprayed
Nowadays drive the McLaren past it
Same old man from years ago
Told me life is short
So from
frustrated I would write
Scotty said it's tight
Scotty was my right hand man from the jump
Leave at lunch
Skippin' 5th 6th and 7th to record
Piece of junk old
Tried to hit a lick without a black mask
No gloves
He influenced by the drug dealers and the thugs
He addicted to the lifestyle
What he love
messages)
Life is a day to day mission
Nobody hiring especially if you been to prison.
Black man surviving without a plan
everyday they hustle so money can
on the streets.
I'm a fucked up kid
Mary on my lips and I be gassed up
Tryna run Away
And Tryna get around
Nigga on a wave and I surf it out
Barely gettin paid
I'm
They sent us home to watch the show comin' on the little screen
A man named Ike was in the white house, big black limousine
There were many shows
doubt
Smoking while I ride got a birdie by my side
Pretty lil bitch keep a cup between her thighs
Kissing on her lips she in love with my eyes
That's ok
fu fuckin' around.
Get out my face if you ain't by mission,
And just like a church you can throw in the vision.
Wanna be black so bad, then go
locked felt that it could be a dream
Love lost it embodies a nightmare
I'm 30 years old and it's giving me white hair
Black out asking where I should run
mad
So they loaded up a mag
Put his ass in a casket
Blap
That's that same story they ain't ever told
That's that same story and it's getting old
Man
what its like to fukk a bad bitch
Im wit some niggas I know dat wont switch
Calico take off the side of his ribs
She wanna taste put the dick on her lips
colder
Push up the same old boulder
I do not take action unless it's granted
I keep to myself unless it seems I been threatened
And I despise the hold that
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