plastic? Is the city buried in dreams? Yeah Watching TV so bored, while imbeciles hold the mic cord Graffiti playgrounds are played out, yo how'd that sound? Army
-Fella label baby fuck them other labels baby And we been duckin shots from all them haters lately We gettin paper baby, them others tryin to keep up
man soon to be we next up Get wet up, I been fresh since a little one bitch I school The others travel from the little gun force one's See my rocket
I was born there, pa I don't gotta write bars, you niggaz see my scars? An' you know my story I'm more for the war, I'm 'bout guts an' glory Them other
Yo just man, gimma a heat rock man DGL we back in the club again, ya know? Holla J-Jeah j-jeah j-jeah bounce! easy Ya heard? We back, bitches Don't be
Niggas on the run, hah, click number 1 Got them niggas steady swangin' and the bitches straight sprung So you best to bring your army, your posse, your
some bwoy know mi nah smile Cause this spear nah beg friends Man a run racket Man a run scheme Man a run race Man a run down Benz Can't trust a
and the thugsta down on the St. Clair Hit up ya S C T, when I'm hangin', swangin' with the G's Give each other peace, pass around my fifth of rum Everybody
know when I sex well Left them breathless now they're waiting to exhale Waiting to exhale with some competition So come in and test well The next one
IT IT?S KINDA CRAZY HOW MANY WAYS, A LIFE CAN CHANGE IN A SINGLE DAY CHORUS ONE LAUGHS, ONE CRIES, AND THIS OL? WORLD KEEPS TURNIN? AROUND ONE LIVES, ONE
on competition And have all you hoes in submission Trying to recondition your stilo Lyrical nino I sling rhymes like kilos From here to Puerto Rico One other
to me. Now sitting right there at that there clan There chanced to be a one eyed man And Bill kept watching from the corner of his eye. If ol' one
we do we just keep it so 'Gutter' My army's eclectic and that's how 'we keep it' Keep on, pumping strong, going on so 'Gutter' x2 [VERSE ONE] Now I
you talkin hater but you aint sayin nothin, Man i let him keep talkin, let alone this motherfuckers barkin Im a grown ass man, you want a C.I.D. Filthy
[Intro] Yeah (Word!) Yeah man (What?) (Love me) It's Drizzy baby (Mayday!) You know what it is, from T-Dot to the world My man Repstar (Repstar!), T-Williams
children we always see digging for food in trash on commercials. But plutocracies, in other words a government run by the rich such as this one and traditionally
in Benghazi and Belgrade Upon a scimitar or other crooked blade Ransacks and loots, vacated suits And a pistol points but never shoots An army sitting
as their army cheers. [3] Yet so often equality becomes inferiority. The course of a story twists at triumphs and fame so easily lets a man forsake his
