Lyrics:
And a whole lot of show
And with Hank Jr. blaring on the radio
We got us a tank full of gas
And we was on our way
We figured we'd go down to New Orleans
Gang but we live by the codes of Coberas
Hoopties, drive by's, long nose through Nova's
If you dope I dope ya, where the pimps are colder
The end is
a big mistake, babe I know I fucked up
I have never felt this way for any girl
You were everything to me, my best friend, my whole world
With you not by
the blunt
Roll up
Ride for my fam that's a must
You know what?
I been a lot of places and seen a lot faces and a nigga found out I could trust, no one
Man
walk away from 'em
They don't got a grudge
Understand we from a place where nobody love
It's a whole lot of hate
A whole lot of drugs
See we smoke by
To the less fortunate
I implore you
We’re in George Orwell’s 1984
And it’s horrible
I tip the scales of psychological warfare
Police my thoughts
And be left
there's a lot of tings we can’t agree on
You got a big tune, put me on
I’m on a showerman ting, what's he on?
Come to your house in a Ford Orion
Draw for
distractions my actions
Evident of what it is that Father V after
And that's everything not only for me but my whole team
We done seen a lot of pain it's only
you ever noticed that nothing has changed for you since then
Manoeuvring and calculating seems to just make sense
In case things are coming my way that
like a barber shop
Y’all talk a lot
We stomp pimps out in the parking lot
Step on my block that’s a mistake
Like when the condom pop
You got to stop
a luncheon
Bobby crush with the punch-in
Whole crew been awake, we eating these snakes, they seein' us munchin'
Look I ain't fuckin' with you like I'm
the future that's signed by George Jetson
Taking my money is something I never stress on
Thats just a new canvas for me to go make a mess on
I know im
or not, but ah
We were writing to this you know what I'm sayin'
We want y'all to take all mistakes for love, ya hear me
Day after day time seems to fly by
Buck 65-Square 3
[intro]
Music to be murdered by
It is mood music in a juggular vein and I hope you like it
Our record requires only the simplist
Will you please take your seats
And clear the isle
Mic check
I be doing things on my own, and ain't no need for a mentor
Girls want to see me
The illusions of a mind full of grief
Hoping for a way out to find a release
Cut off your right hand to save you from sins
Your cult like following
the innocent don't survive
You can stay away from drama for your whole life
But when karma comes around trust me she will bite
And if she likes the taste then
white trash
Miss me with the bullshit, get frisbee'd right back
I know Many Men who'd hit you with Fifty by chance
A bunch of conniving cons that are
the motherfuckin' pro
One nigga got pissed
And started reachin' for his shit
Three-fifty-seven on your ass fool
Like I said before, you don't get a second
only a handful of soldiers by my side,
rest of my so called niggas was jive
but I ain't gonna say no names, 'cause they know who they be
so if you
federal cases with legal aids
The unlit stage tonight performing lime desires to eat
Can get you in a 8 by 5, the Corner's younger
I smell, feel, touch
know that I wasn't easy, I could be difficult too
I know I caused a lot of trouble you were gettin' into
But you would always just smile and try to carry
self control
Been feelin' hungry and
They just ain't feedin' my soul, I had to let go
A lot of people that I really thought were there for me (facts)
paid for by a
Carcass that resembles yours
Born in the heart of the empire
You're worth more than others just like you
But less then the native ones
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