doors Pull out garage and lost side view mirror My credit card final fantasy breaks the limit I just paid just brakes to break my lemon Wont make enough juice
're all about It's like this y'all (c'mon!) [Chorus] This is ten percent luck, twenty percent skill Fifteen percent concentrated power of will Five percent pleasure, fifty percent pain
we're really all about.Still like this [Chorus:] This is ten percent luck, twenty percent skill Fifteen percent concentrated power of will Five percent pleasure, fifty percent pain
re all about Tony Yayo, Obie Trice, C'mon! This is ten percent luck, twenty percent skill Fifteen percent concentrated power of will Five percent pleasure, fifty percent pain
they made em chewable Catch me in the source with five pills next to my name Like fuck five mics I want five vic fame If killing pain is the name of
is the life] Robbie: Whoa did you hear that sold out in L.A! Whoa! Farmain: Ow Ow needle in finger sharp shooting pain. Hannah: oh I'm sorry Farmain
Shes young, lithe and homely, wise by no means, Known one guy shes for his eyes and only, Hes a lying phony, leaves crying, lonely, Separates the pain
the center of Earth's curvature And make your block turn into the, border of Serbia My flow's dirtier than juiced-up players in baseball And beat you
kiss on the lips Yeah Feel sensation From both extremes Don't shy away from painful scenes Are you gonna let it go Are you gonna let the juices flow
so yo black Just get on up or yo get the bozak Cuz it ain't Kojak or Dr. Suess It's the kid muther fucker and I'm gonna get loose Cuz I got the juice
Step a side as I make room to bloom Any opposing goo gets placed in a tomb As soon as I grip the mic to get loose Don't dispute cuz ya got no juice Meanwhile
't get enough Wanna feel you deep inside, pumpin' through my veins, fill you to the core Let me take you thru the night, heaven knows no pain, open
extra loud Shorties - extra, extra out My flows - four mics, get The Source bitch and check it out I came to knock this bastard down Juic - ya bleedin
Destiny Child CD, song number three She cater to me till we fall asleep Then we wake up and we pick up where we started Then she make a nigga breakfast sprite, orange juice
(feat. Big Boi, Gucci Mane, OJ Da Juiceman) [INTRO] I can't wait to H A T E you Cause right now I need you Can't wait to make you go I cant wait to (
Finch rockin', wrist glistenin' marksman Hitchcock of Hip-Hop since Big Pop departed The project logic is still salute the dead, glocks spit Pour some juice