TRY FOR THE TOP AND NOT LEAVE UNTIL IT'S DONE I'M GONNA PUSH IT AWAY WORLD'S GETTING HEATED, BUT I'LL KEEP TO ME NOT GONNA SWEAT ANYONE THAT'S HOW IT'S DONE
out this fuckin club in your drawers We lovin the broads, there's nothin to applaud But fuck it it's all good, the hood is up in The Source It's fight
't you put your laundry basket in the back And sit up front, not askin' it's a trap You just got jacked and body snatched and it's a rap In broad day,
it bottled up I think i'm bottomin' out But i'm not about to give up, I gotta get up Thank God, I got a little girl And I'm a responsible father So not
runnin out this fuckin club in your drawers We lovin the broads, there's nothin to applaud But fuck it it's all good, the hood is up in The Source It's
nobody find it! Till it's rusty and fucked up, forensics have fun! - What? [Repeat Chorus:] [Outro:] Come get it, I'm strapped now, I'm with it! Come
fucked up now! What are we gonna do now? How we gonna eat man? 50 back around" That's Ja's lil punk ass thinkin out loud Southside, Tah died, that's just how
survive Another day when I'm waking up I turn my TV on CNN Another homie done bit the dust, my best friend's back up in the pen Somebody hit the
[swizz beatz] Let’s get it started, get it started Let’s keep it started, keep it started Yeah, yeah, violater the album Go, go, go!! [l boogie] This
it movin', keep it movin', keep it movin' Keep it movin' along, keep it movin' along Keep it movin', keep it movin', keep it movin', keep it movin' Keep
me K-I-S-S kiss of death LP soon comin for yall bless bless Metallic green paint on the impala the S.S. And I figure the more niggas dead the less stress You love how
it sound like Independence Day! And I could talk that gun shit, Cause I done shit, My nick name should be Diarea How I run shit, And I done seen niggaz
finsih to the car, that's a nice ride Dig it, they spin they puchase round here they get kite high Deal it, it's my description, my picture, my composure
shoot first they they askin (?) names It's less strain It's all real, I bet fame, it's a chess game Wrong move and it's checkmate (That's right) I might
For the final dusty time Mr renaldo 'n' carillo's Going to jail Can't open no more supermarkets Duncan's sombrero's hanging Up there with his guns Some
done mailed it out that I'ma bang it like a hammer and I'ma nail the South East West, and write letters for my niggaz up North My guns made in China
peoples before they could conceive you How's a buck-fifty sound, for a quick ass cut? Here's a flasback, I fuckin blow your bitch-ass up And it's
