) We clap motherfucker Want a real rap show? Fiends are rushin' When the mack blow Dead in my castle And in the blink watch How quick life pass you What's
ghost is ya bredrin blowin smoke in the seven Or maybe it's the hooptie in these pisshole slums Just tryna kick my piece off of kiko's drums Ya know
I?m supposed to think Flinch at me like I?m supposed to blink Motherfucka, this crip still, hard to swallow like a big pill Pushin 40s still a big deal
This here's a jam for all the fellas Tryin' to do what those ladies tell us Get shot down 'cause ya over-zealous Play hard to get females get jealous
enforce them? Unless you get it on tape It's more suspense and mystery than a Presidio tape Investigation more cartoon than a kid video tape It's civil
a screaming siren Pneumatic drill on ripped-up concrete Baby wails, a stray dog howling Brakes screech as lamp light blinking That's entertainment, that's
love ya In the blink of an eye, painted window In the blink of an eye, my painted windows In the blink of an eye, painted window In the blink of an eye
? You okay like Ciara, let's freak for now Gotta' build my clientele like Nino Hip hop's departer, I deboe the East Coast Three's a crowd, keep two in
[Intro: sample (Method Man)] "Walk on" (yeah, yeah, yeah) [Method Man] It's Meth, back on that old shit Pick my ho's with the same finger I pick my nose
the day would come To end my trials and tribulations Now I'm older and wiser... [CHORUS] This could be over in a heartbeat In the blink of an eye It's
stomach out and hand it over Butterflies, butterflies My heart will be the bridge that you walk over That you walk over That you walk over
the executives Who talkin' money? Let's do it, baby Me and Short dog on the mic, baby It's going down all night, baby Shootin' all haters on sight, baby That's
steps to try to change my life I've got some questions for you Lord, 'cause my mentality's hood So why's that everything that's bad for me feels so good? It's
pussy, lil' man, it's over, retire 'Cause the clock's tickin', your days is done But we know all them lil' different fuckin' ways, you slum But it's
an S.O.S Holy whack unlyrical lyrics Andre, you're fuckin' right To the rap mobile, let's go (Marshall, Marshall) Bitches and gentleman, it's show time
familiar ringtone from my phone It's my bitch texting me telling me don't come home I'm thinking damn should I text back, why me My phone starts ringing it's
the same thang Y'all look at these blue skies and think paradise I look at these blue skies, and think what a disguise That's why its called the "Magic City", it's