act souped Makin pop beats, so keep it street [chubb rock] Block party, nineteen-eighty-one People havin fun, no one with a gun No ducats, you pay nothin at
more than diamonds, platinum and gold So, when you select your man, make sure that you respect your man And vise verse over wise, you need to stop and check your man Men
matter mediation Self actualization or even zoning out through deep relaxation Yo, I came across grown men too scared to dream I walked past them as a child with
force the issue, my man'll toss the pistol And of course I hit you, let that loss be with you The more L's the higher, streets are fire Make ice hearts in men
at other people he feeded for props like addicts with pipes and needles so he felt he had to prove to everyone he was evil a fever minded young man with
I run with thugs Levis, Tims, hoodie, coat, skully, drugs Fatigues before they were the fashion Pockets with work and others with cash in Thought I was cool with
every old man has a story to tell He lived by the book Went to church every day But his wife left him young With two daughters and bills to pay He worked
makes a man a man At 3 o'clock or so i meet With friends to have a bite to eat And conversation We love to empty out our hearts With every subject from
how you want it, you come with guns nigga We cock two, got work? I comp too Block one, we pop two For the love for my family, and my seed Makin' sure
last men on this note Who wanna get served by the nigga, the nerve at the throat You think you bad but bitch you never had A nigga to give more heart
scream out...shit is not fair I can't tell you where i'm at or how I got here Surrounded by all white, maybe it's just cloudy Escorted by two men who
telly with to whores, a Benz with two doors 32 carrots in the traws, no flaws You see me in the hood, I got at least two guns I carry the glock, Tony
the telly with to whores, a Benz with to doors 32 carrots in the traws, no flaws You see me in the hood, I got atleast two guns I carry the glock, Tony
blessed And I wonder what in this world, more worse than stress I'm a mess with stress, though I present it with finesse Sometimes I feel as if my heart
he feeded for props like addicts with pipes and needles so he felt he had to prove to everyone he was evil a fever minded young man with infinite potetial
my bootie, with disco in her soul. So much for indecision, so quick did she decide, the temptress with her doors open inviting me inside. "I want to take you home with
it hurts, and sandwich you in a hearse God sent you with a curse, that's why your parachute didn't work Dead in the dirt (yup) with the bugs and the