take my life, oh Sometimes I tend to lose my faith I'm askin' God to hear my case If you could see it through my eyes They all wanna see me read my
beater And ya bank account? Shit, that's my pocket fare Residue on my clothes, call it roc-a-wear I can beat it like my, I treat the dope like Tina
s my pocket fare (Pocket Fare) Residue on my clothes, call it Roc-A-Wear (Roc-A-Wear) I can beat it like my.... I treat the dope like Tina, And I beat
my pocket fare (Pocket Fare) Residue on my clothes, call it Roc-A-Wear (Roc-A-Wear) I can beat it like my.... I treat the dope like Tina, And I beat
the store for some zig-zags Every store on my corner is owned by an Arab But like a bucket I say fuck it I'm drivin' Grab my dick, spit my shit and keep
paint her rubie I am a looney you niggas puny I puke on the beat I juke and never fumble Man I spit that dope like I swallowed a bundle Gotta spit that dope
got somethin' to prove Pay the card for the South, yeah the hood my home Told my mama I'ma leave the dope game alone On my knees every night conversatin
for them petty things, Like a gold chain, no a muthafuckin pinky ring, now it's cocaine If you see me on the dope train, I'm the dope man Cigarettes
you smokin dope with me dope with me [dj paul] Bitch this a real mothafuckin click Niggas out here traytin flodgin fakin on my profit shit Trying to steal my
, ever since they've been gone I've been better Ffuck them fakers and them tag along fakers Smilin? in my face but got my enemy on your MySpace I can
my hoes cause I'm a liar Neighborhood uh-hotter that a toaster, ridin' MoMo's and I'll roast a deal what's on my old poster, if I pull it out my holster
up And now ya need stitches because my voice cuts Chainsaw gain more and reign raw And never let a brother play it is my main law [Incomprehensible]
blood off of my hand If you hearing me speak please Lord give me a chance Please forgive me of my sins 'cause we cleansed where I'm from Me and my niggaz
Everybody knew me for my hundred packs my car was so clean kids was lookin up to me Across the street was law elementry They wanna be like me a tru hustla The dope
took out Three dollar pieces for my look out Licensed cookie baker That's my profession Never have my dope in my own possession Niggas selling cocaine in my
here, we left the drug game alone Brothers is jealous 'cause we still call the hood our home What could you tell us? At funerals my eyes swell up, damn Look at my
all my homies ain't here, see ya in the crossroads, fool Imagine this, me dressed in all black At a funeral strapped with a chrome gat Who died p, I guess it was my
them hands So you can call me Mr. handy man My brother Mr. ice cream You can call me Mr. candy man Mr. money maker Mr. honey taker Mr. funeral director