Man Tana Y'all clowns don't wanna fuck around pana Puffin pounds of marijuana wit my entourage Camouflage in the silent fog getting charged so we'll party dark Terror Squad my
did her just like Tamara Taking naked pictures with my poloroid camera Next they told a girl named Rocquelle Got my skin all under her fingernails She was diggin in my
to fight for your country When ask for ours, we get nothing I look for work and get my feelings hurt They got my back against the wall and my dick is
it all night long All out, wuk gal mek dem bawl out, bedroom bathroom all bout (All out) (Mek dem bawl out) (All bout) Wuk gal mek dem bawl out, all di set all
I know y'all listen to my music But what I'ma do now is I'm tryin' and describe my life to y'all Sometimes I fell like I'm loosing it My life is upside
Well I can see my teenage father standing straight on a desolate corner In the shadow of tentacled towers by the red light of America I imagine how his
my head My life, featuring Wayne That was Jayceon, this is Game Adjacent to the fame aint chasing a damn thing So tonight let all of your pain be champagne I cant tame my
shit all my life and now I'm dumpin' it on (White America) I could be one of your kids (White America) Little Eric looks just like this (White America
to tell the truth I'm so tired of you, America Making my own way home Ain't gonna be alone I got a life to lead, America I got a life to lead Tell
you could be Osama, and tear off roofs Or be Corporate America, and reject all youth Be the fly on the woodgrain, inside my Coop Or be the sole, inside my
with you always. I'm no one's wife God bless you. But, oh, God bless you. I love my life... Velma, Roxie et al.: And all that jazz Company: THAT JAZZ
I'm spendin mills Signin all kinda deals I'm a 5 star bitch, Eating 5 star meals My whole life style Like comin to America All my Louie luggage You see my
to" F-ck 'em, I let the dice roll like my father did I gotta shine, it's in my blood, I'm a Harlem kid I treat my babies right, treat my ladies ladylike
to drive Working jobs that don't support their life You busy screaming gangsta, gangsta all that talk is strife You already know lost the fight if you don't know the cost of life
two weeks all by himself Three years old, eatin' ketchup and mustard, cryin for help Tryin' to bring your struggle to life The label want a song about a bubbly life
the body is what he can expect The precedent is set, don't matter if he follow the law I know I'll give my son pride and make him swallow it all (damn
wit a boss You need a thug in yo life (yo life. yo life) Real winners gonna throw the cash on ya a** I would like to put my autograph on ya a** Go deep
buy records are straight broke But my language universal they be recitin my quotes While R&B singers hit bad notes, we rock the boat of thought, that my