(feat. C-Mac, 6 Shot, Miss T) [T-Rock] Now give the skrilla to the mack puffing killer green in this trilla scene I got ho's who commit more sins then
: (feat. C-Mac, 6 Shot, Miss T) [T-Rock] Now give the skrilla to the mack puffing killer green in this trilla scene I got ho's who commit more sins
tape Because its gon jam but I'm losing respect, my music can't hang Around Z-Ro, just till we praying, I really don't know All I can say, that I don't
who I'm talkin about (You know who I'm talkin about) that's right You ain't s**t without your homeboys You ain't s**t without your homeboys You ain't s**t
but don't forget, girl keep your head up And when he tells you you ain't nuttin don't believe him And if he can't learn to love you you should leave
know just as well I do You ain't no killer So kill that You wouldn't kill if you had to We might wobble but we don't fall down We take the gospel
your ear hole I been rocking mics since I was 17 years old Smoking up, drinking up, kicking dust, and fucking up Everybody want a piece and we ain't
cha' down in New Orleans We got that, huh Them white tee's and them b's on 'em We rock that, huh And all black with 23's on 'em Nigga we rock that, yeah
your mutha fukin life clown [Bow Wow:] Cause the real don't do that I be looking at him like eww who'd do that The kids don't feel that But you wouldn
Potna, you can't fuck wit the sniper Your flow's premature, clean your dirt diaper Mic heister, psycho, alpha-schizo Hypno, chryo-gat flow, guru and ain't
so I can't loose, cause I'm paying mad douze in this record biz, I don't snooze. And suckers be popping at those idiotic egosytible type of flimflam, I can't
(feat. Nate Dogg) [The Game] I'm from the old hood, somethin like yo' hood Where niggaz don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good So we rock it
all shed On the lyrical tip Na, I ain't feeling ya kid We gave ya, something to jock, but it wasn't no thing, like Bobby, gave Whitney a rock but it wasn't
and though i'm not i'dk now that i can't so i would never stop (repeat 3x) and i don't know myself anymore and i don't know who i am anymore except
', gettin' live And I'm lonely, graspin' on my 55 cent I don't know where my meds went, they been spent And I'm bent, I don't remember yesterday at all
on his lap Rude Boy wasn't lookin, we hit a crack head Flippin off the windshield, the motherfucker's dead Zombie cut in half, no kind of regret Insane Clown
