trading flesh for oil, you don't give a damn, we don't need your war, and we'll say it loud. put this shit out, of your head, tell your puppets, not to
trading flesh for oil, you don't give a damn, we don't need your war, and we'll say it loud. put this shit out, of your head, tell your puppets, not
feel good ------------Chorus----------- I got a friend named Flow, who got a friend named blow With a finger named clap that’ll leave you on the side like a
I loosing my mind 'cos the logic of the story is impossible to find Like a talking head I'm gonna making sense 'cos bad news is like sitting on a burning
feel like god and the devil I'm a saint I'm a sinner I'm a hard rocking' Hard headed Hard sick summer winner I'm a kush blazing' Bush chasing
I retaliate, just by being great Big Will the enemy of your mental state With the same rhyme I used to burn your idol in a battle To screw you into saying
a bird its a plane, no its I Yea, I holla five on four till they bury me man I'm the father of New Orleans and I'm a family man, you heard me [Hook]
of school or have abortions Stop workin' hopin' that they find a man that will support them Up late night on they mother's cordless Thinkin' a perm or
[Intro: Thin C] Let it burn (burn, haters, burn) Uh, uh, let it burn (let that fire burn) Uhh, uhh.. let it burn (burn, haters, burn) Uhh, uhh [Thin
pulpit I kill a nigga at the drop of a dime Just imagine what I do for a quarter Ain't no telling what I do for a dollar Pop a nigga right in front of
's down with us Sway and King Tech are down with us Makin' funky music is a must I'm #1 People still takin' rappin' for a joke A passing hope, or a phase
muschi, so you can't squish No where near toosh, in fact if I jump out a bush And sneak attack's the only was I say I am bush Outlandish are these
{Meet Eddie, twenty-three years old Fed up with life and the way things are going He decides to rob a liquor store But on his way in, he has a sudden
a fake it 'til you make it type a nigga I'm a straight up take it type a nigga Pistol whip a nigga 'til I break it type a nigga I'm hard on chumps, most
me I blow your head off, when I talk, chop off your arms And bash your head in, you know where this shit is headin' For a dead-end, stop your sweatin
on the hands Chef in the kitchen cooking love love..slam! Blow out the stash; keep the bundle in the bush and the trash D-up, burn brother for the real
I'm a gaddang rollin' stone, I don't beg, I can hold my own I don't break, I can hold the chrome and it's weighin' a ton And I'm a son of a gun, my code
