sell me, I help ya live lovely You want a Porsche? Move a few ki's Just remember that your God is me The task force bum rushed one of my employees A
the puppets are roaming the room In spite... of being creatures of iron and wood They live as well as you and I Though driven by other forces inside And
-boy hunts out butt-ends in the garbage cans. Is it any wonder there was such sickening celebration over the Task Force When so called radicals work hand
chance I get Out the window on some uptown anthem shit I'm stressing, but ain't no pressure here I've been here before Fugitive task force at my girlfriend
We spend cash with each other Toss ass with each other And if a nigga play with us spin a bin with each other Fuckin' right, we click tight Nothin'
passed before them The task of the almighty to prove the unbeatable hand of right encouraging the challenge to attmpt to slay their might These bastards that force
enter John Owens Better known as Casual to y'all not knowin About flowin, cause your rhymes are all stolen Another dip on the strip cause task force patrollin
THE CHORUS The chorus has often an unenviable role to play, often a distasteful task to perform; summoned as witness to uncounted crime,
queen. Please release me from this endless dream. I want to forget all these things i have seen. In that dream i'm on my horse Striking with a hellish force
from the bright shine Reflecting the sun The silhouette comes into focus There stands the flask This shiny chrome liquid helps Complete the task When
Street jurisdiction, nigga, no restriction Concrete composition for emcee's in submission Special edition crash, course mission Push through like the task force
completion, the dissidents resisted. They spread the illness; irrational emotions began to resurface within us. Confused, we halted our task. Some of us fought each other
panic laced with fear... This is the only sensation familiar within. Memories are vague... Wearing an unknown skin Struggling to fight the forced amnesia
Intro: Bun talking over sample] Say man I don't give a fuck about the FEDs D.E.A., A.T.F., Task Force, Jump-out boys, or your local neighborhood robbers
As the slave-boy hunts out butt-ends in the garbage cans. Is it any wonder there was such sickening celebration over the Task Force When so called radicals
invited The headliners is Theodore and everybody's excited [Method Man:] Fuck that, 'bout time we took it back to the block The task force coming, I
back We spend cash with each other Toss ass with each other And if a nigga play with us spin a bin with each other Fuckin right We click tight Nothin
values mollified - severed by clean, precise cuts, each to the last Your senses vilified - taste and tolerance are now taken to task... In the name of
