Ever since my early teens I've been a loc on these streets 'Gold is for 24 I go for broke on these streets My flow is a young Mike Tyson I put the hit
I will life After I save myself, I'll be in a position where I can give life Thanking Jesus, cause we wouldn't be here if he didn't give his life [Hook
two And, We Clubbin?. [Chingy] Rich Money got a bottle and he waitin? to trip (g.i.b.) Ol? G posted with a blunt to his lip Valdez on the floor two-steppin? with his
cause of his man Lance Frankie cut crack Lance hold the Mac If fiends fuck with Frankie's pac's Lance cut the crack heads blocked up Thought he was locked
safe, hit em with the glock he caught a stray shot Fucked his girl and made him watch, made a death wish I cut his throat now wear that like a necklace
libre et fiere, Mon ame, mon amour, au dela de la mer Back in 1000. died Brian Boru, on the emerald Irish isle, But his fiery locks and golden harp
fire, Touch the fire, touch the fire Jacky's locked in a silent dream He's watching movies on the TV-screen He feels unsteady lights a cigarette He's getting mellow in his
measures he now will be taking. He's pulling her down and she's clutching on to his long golden locks. Gentlemen, he said, I don't need your organization
on his wooden stool Leave the autumn leaves in their swimming pool Leave the poor black child in his crumbling school today Leave the novelist in his
drunk on his wooden stool. Leave the autumn leaves in the swimming pool. Leave the poor black child in his crumbling school today. Leave novelist in his
Lady, weepinng at the crossroads, Would you meet your love In twilight with his greyhounds, And the hawk upon his glove? Bribe the bird then on the
"Bust it rugged, shine like a gold nugget" (what they know about this?) "When I bust on the mic, I bust a real hard rhyme" --- Keith Murray "Every time
ma shove a gun in their ribs And reporters, blow it out of proportion "Oh, now he's pullin guns on his fans just for tryin to stand on his porch" And
many friggin needles I wonder if they inject [Xzibit] Lo and behold, better than platinum or gold Yes God bless success, never forsake your soul Xzibit take control, locked
body of his mother Rotting in the summer ground He fled the town He went down South and crossed the border Left the chaos and disorder Back there over his
Back porch preacher preaching at me Acting like he wrote the golden rules Shaking his fist and speeching at me Shouting from his soap box like a fool &
