dealing just with themselves most people are just narcissistic or they're just temporarily disconnected These people got lots to say but they don't have much to hear...Split! Split
time dealing just with themselves most people are just narcissistic or they're just temporarily disconnected These people got lots to say but they don't have much to hear...Split! Split
bruise easily come They go through this little, spin 'em Most of what goes around, comes around, ooh Bla-bla-bloody mess even though hoes really wanna Test us to the chest, flesh buck, buck
eyes, bitch, we get live Bone Thugs-N-Harmony, nigga, Cleveland's thuggish ruggish Niggas still down with the thug shit Buck, buck, bust, let 'em know
shit Taking off my shirt and breaking them sweats Tattoos all over my body seven on the stomach Skull on my chest, nine millimeter in my pocket Ready to buck
in a coffin before they get me man Krayzie, loco, insane, bang bang Runnin' with the pump pump, no bluffin' We buck Nigga better realize still claim Nineteen nine nine the nine nine
and that boy Poyo and these hoes ear and we comin through wit that boy Flig-ati Flea comin out the 3, cuttin hairs with that boy J-o-e yeah that nigga
the club gettin' real buck Nigga's in the club gettin' real buck Now my nigga's in the club gettin' real buck Now my nigga's in the club gettin' real buck
fuck 'em but they don't fuck me who owe me money in the streets? try to duck me wigs get split like bananas, trust me keep it butter, call me Land 'O
FUCK GETTIN OLD MONEY TAH FOLD KILLA SHOW SHOOTIN LEDGE HOES LICK THEN SPLIT DONT TRUST NO SETUP HOES WHERE DEM CLOTHES GRINDIN IN THIS CALIFORNIA SUNSHINE ONE NINE
graves, funerals made 'cause I was sprayed I was laid in a shelf, with a grenade Met a wrecked up tech with numbers on his chest that say Five two o nine
in south central Kick the instrumental, run and get your bigger crew 'Cause it's judgment day and Ice Cube is terminigga 2 Pow, pow, buck, buck, pow, buck
me roar timbaland tree weed galore MC's with gusto y'all ain't neva seen befo' El Producto pass that, ya puff too slow That's what's up yo, the kid with the buck
A muthafuckin' thug in perfect harmony Harmony, harmony, harmony In state to state, in state to state - Everywhere they playa hate, they playa hate Buck 'em, buck 'em, buck
mad, we the real number oners Rollin' like big, Thugline nothin' but runners Trouble Boss, a double cross A nigga named Krray they good as dead From the B-O
) where you live, better protect your kids. F**k it, let's blow up his crib. 10-o'clock news, Nobody lived. Tombstone: You better roll ''cause we give no love when we got to buck
heah and that boy Poyo and these hoes heah and we comin through wit that boy Flig-ati Flea comin out the 3, cuttin hairs with that boy J-o-e yeah that
