Bury Your Fucking Dead.
I never said that I was a fucking poet I never tried to be something, I knew I'd never be There's no use in pretending, no use in pretending I'll tell
been found and your whip's slumped over With your gangsta ass, dead and your gone Iced out, chain out, with ya brains out, head on your horn [horn noise
have you lost it? Where?s your head? Where?s your head? Where?s your head? Where?s your head? Is it buried in the sand? Up your arse? Are you brain dead
might be targets tonight Even though I'm grown fucked up childhood, keep fucking my dome Fuck around and front, like I'm gon Buy your work, and straight leave on your
your girl if I know flesh was lusted Nigga now who was to blame for the pain cause fucking with me nigga you get sprayed Hardheaded that's like fucking
you think it cost to bury me Stop your howlin' Stop your howlin' I'm not from Shaolin I'm not from Shaolin Stop your howlin' I'm not from Shaolin Stop your howlin' Stop your
enemies dead and gone Leaving 'em niggas head's blown, cause they know they dead wrong When the shots ring out you know we're coming through (Know we're coming through) Talk a lot with your
rum, leaving the enemies dead and gone Leaving 'em niggas head's blown, cause they know they dead wrong When the shots ring out you know we're coming through (Know we're coming through) Talk a lot with your
got there in the middle of the night, I wanna piss on his head I want that sonova bitch dead, I want him dead I want him dead, I don't care
me Playa hate me See me and hide Sure as hollow points shatter, enemies die Spread love dead thugs Gettin buried in riches Take a chance to advance fuck
I send they bodies to they parents up North With they faces laid bris and they nuts cut off Fuck 'em all what I scream as I dream in tongues Fuck a trick
, nobody violates the Don I write your name on a piece of paper, now your family's gone Why perpetrate like you can handle my team? So merciless that my attack'll take command of your
, come face the truth In the middle of the desert nigga lace your boots As a youth, hundred proof, tap my chest is a dead rest You studio niggaz still remind your vest Why the fuck
[Tupac] That's right nigga you gotta get your papers in this motherfucker I ain't mad at ya at all (damn) Aiyyo, what the fuck you wanna be when you grow
forties, lil' shorties livin naughty lives You couldn't stop us, long as I got my glock, FUCK the coppers Hangin on the block, slangin rocks and makin profits I couldn't fuck
