Lyrics:
a cold game
Played by the coldest man
Everything ya see is not
The 7-4 k
The son of cocaine
I'm a dopeman
Plus I'm holdin' weight
Cause I'm the dope
Its me, the brand new intelligent black woman why-O-why-O
Which is Yo-Yo, but I'm not to be played
Like I was made by matell
But this Yo-Yo is made
Its me, the brand new intelligent black woman why-O-why-O
Which is Yo-Yo, but I'm not to be played
Like I was made by matell
But this Yo-Yo is made
a blouse
Kick styles by the piles, as I leave a trail for miles
Skins when I please, hit from here to Tel Aviv
I'm gettin G's, no more time for the line
Huh
[Verse 1 - Scarface]
You see a nigga with his game tight, money with a name like
'Face (Face Mob), havin his way, the homie did his thing,
why?
'cause the brothers that I knew with the rise drove by
Only nice in the days looking down the road
Seeing beautiful girls with the car load
Yeah
struggles in suffocation
Sanguined by the mob, it scents the blood
Oppress the slaves, they're pagans still
The swamp seems deep
They're traitors
funny
'Cause niggas don't fuck with you like you fuck with them
They want the money and the fame minus hustling
I still mob through my city like I'm
with one bitch, leave with two
By myself at the top like cocoon
When I'm in the coupe I feel like a cocoon
Designer gifts red bottoms baboon
We
Lil' spoiled bitch, two thousand on shoes (two thou', shoes)
Walk in the club with one bitch, leave with two (yeah, dos, two)
By myself at the top like
was on the ground and
They coming at you what would you do
I'd rather be judged by twelve
Than carried by six
I'd rather be stone cold hated
Than give
was darker
I was hittin' y'all with more punches than the Spartan
Partner, come to faith, God's my author
Forty days in the wilderness, was led by
C-gutta, Roc-A-Fella, 400s and better (uh, uh)
Lil' Cease push threes with five in his eyes
Knocking "Not Gon' Cry" by Mary Blige
I die for my niggas
C-gutta, Roc-A-Fella, 400s and better (uh, uh)
Lil' Cease push threes with five in his eyes
Knocking "Not Gon' Cry" by Mary Blige
I die for my niggas
it right
Don't make a ass outta yourself, by assumin
My music keeps you movin, what are you provin?
You know that I'm two levels above you baby
Hug
(No matter how hard I try, look to the sky, and I ask God why)
Nobody don't care
(Seems like my dreams, drowned in by screams, no answer to my
it right
Don't make a ass outta yourself, by assumin
My music keeps you movin, what are you provin?
You know that I'm two levels above you baby
Hug
breath, by the time I flip to the next flow
This sho' is real, this is the deal, guns I'm runnin
Gotta make it out of town to flip my {shit} and keep it
intelligent black woman Y-O-Y-O
Which is Yo-Yo, but I'm not to be played
Like I was made by matell
But this Yo-Yo is made by woman and male
I rhyme about
folks scared to death
When he walked by they held their breath
He was a fighting man, sure enough
Now Bill took himself a wife, he has to lead
the kicks
And put the Lench Mob crew, on the other end of the stick
Fee fie foe fum, the niggaz overcome
Everything is numb and it's filmed at eleven
It's
Sanguanaried by the mob it scents the blood
Oppres the slaves they're pagans still
The swamp seems deep traitors everywhere
In rags we stand before the golem
When it turns off pain
A broken goddess, inattentive
fowling lean, betrayed by youth
Our fortress struggles in suffocation
Sanguaned by the mob, it
with my daughter Cherry
All you see is stars, we hit hard
To the Mob, electric we smash guitars!
Let's go
Got fist like Stone
When I hit that Zone
I
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