To The End The End Of The Road But Back In The Kitchen At The End Of The Stove Looks Like We At The End Of The O Drop A 4 In A 20 Ounce And Call It 24
we can ride to the beat light it up, let it burn when you vibin' with me gotta keep it real to survive in these streets come see it for your self how
door It's too bad if you're not for sure, not for sure 'Cause I ain't wanna do it like this But I'm losing every ounce of self control You're just too
of snow Something's goin' wrong I can tell but I dont know I got this feelin' in my gut this ain't how it supposed to go Three pounds, two ounces and
mix you up more like dj red So mike g, when the light turns red, Don't stop, proceed ahead. Go on with your, Go on with your, Go on with your, Bad self
had a black belt my scale so big big boy can weight its damn self 2000 pounds of mid i sold dat shit my damn self
and drug wars living by gun law Jailcats come home and want to take yours As the young one, growing up broke me and my people As the self, huh, I guess
kobe sticker. talkin pair of flike thousand of nikes to hit the shake em i took from the house and couple thousand on they makin its money in them couches, a couple ounces
me, yo they followin us Now I'm a little scared But I'm still prepared I'm like one deep wit one gat, nigga I'm here Then I thought to my self, yo I'm
rest in peace, he taught me how to chop That's why I love the hood and everything we got From the ice cream trucks to the forty ounce tops All white
rest in peace he taught me how to chop Thats why I love the hood and everything we got From the ice cream trucks to the fourty ounce tops All white Air
the other shit just call it brown, Some fools lay it down, then act a clown, Call me sousa, I toss a, bird in a matter of minutes, You want an ounce?
, nothin' but that realness, can ya feel this though? Yeah, gonna ride wit' ya nigga 'cuz it's goin' down They say break yo'self or make yo'self So I
, for buckin' a nigga to the pavement? He gon' get me first, if I don't get him fool start prayin' Ain't no such thing as self-defense in the court of
from Sao Paulo Bank in New York shakin' up the Apollo Rhyme like night, people bite and swallow But the way to recite it is soundin' raw hollow Hollow like empty, 40 ounce
corner sellin' drugs E.C. where I run, about my life, don't give a fuck It's 'cuz stealin' my Mama weed just to smoke on blunts Stealin' forty-ounces
they're not gonna win And wanna dash at lethal or evil Could a king bring style and class to black people? Stick a whole log in and he buggin' 'Cause I represent self
this together! Lets play a game of jeopardy what's the question? Social Medicines the answer I try to eat healthy to avoid the cancer one ounce of prevention
