you're not Don't think that you're someone else Don't think you're the cream of the crop Don't, cause you know you're not You are... in my cell...
Traduction: Raise Hell. Dans ma cellule.
say that most of them are 'fraid of my performance I'm flawless wit the spittin, the rappers don't live it My ? lenses. my infrared sixes My infrared
different daddy's, the same drama When things went wrong we'd blame mama I reminice on the stress I caused, it was hell Huggin on my mama from a jail cell
Outlawz and truants, shit's deep Turn eighteen, burn my will when I go Burnt my body with my shotty, or chosin my dough So while you reminiscin all nights
Man I wish I had my glock cause its major I'm makin' shanks out the plastics in razors These motherfuckers won't leave me alone thats my word Bout to
never seen time I travel across the mean crime My rolls like a million dollar bills folded in green slime With my foes erased drink my henney straight no chasin Catch my
of Silence Inside this cage Where they captured all my rage and violence In time I learned a few lessons Never fall for riches Aplogizies to my TRUE sisters Far from bitches Help me raise my
s, the same drama When things went wrong we'd blame mama I reminice on the stress I caused, it was hell Huggin on my mama from a jail cell And who'd think
my teeth Through the flames I just take all the heat Through my veins was the heart of the street ain't nothing changed so I stay on my G so what they
from Goodie Mob's "Cell Therapy"] "Listen to me now, believe me later on" I knew I should've had my jimmy hat strapped on "Listen to me now, believe me later on" There's a message to my
Stone cold cell Raised from hell Holdin' me For first degree One more morn For calm, for dawn You shall see They'll come for me I confessed I've been
had my back against the fan and chopped it off in Amsterdam I hate the straight jacket it aint latching, and can't lock it So they stapled my hand to my pants pockets The cell
against a man that strangles himself? I'm waitin for hell like hell shit I'm anxious as hell Manson, you're safe in that cell, be thankful it's jail I used to be my
had my back against the fan and chopped it off in Amsterdam I hate the straight jacket it ain't latching, and can't lock it So they stapled my hand to my pants pockets The cell
