what you love and put your trust in few This time you're dead fucking wrong You thought you had me but my will is strong This time you're dead fucking wrong
to what you love and put your trust in few This time you're dead fucking wrong You thought you had me but my will is strong This time you're dead fucking wrong
my dreams I hear motherfuckers screamin What is the meaning, when thugs cry? [Chorus: singers] Oh why, children send your child off to die In the streets of chalk where they lie Let no wrongs
too slick See em at the shows bout to rock they shit off Gettin they peeps fucked up cause they block is soft As for terror, I sever the best of MC
fo My, My, fo fo fo fo My, My, fo fo fo fo I'm going to give it to you baby, nice and slow Fifty you goin to end up dead when you fuckin with crack Talk
fire. Over town, they'll bust ya head cuz it won't slide. Brown sub will wet ya ass like a dunk ride. You're dead wrong for thinkin them chicos won
I am a nightmare walking, psychopath talking King of my jungle, just a gangster stalking Living life like a firecracker, quick is my fuse Then dead as
to hate Ice Cube's in the mutha-fuckin' house The nigga you love to hate Ice Cube's in the mutha-fuckin' house Yo, here comes the nigga with the ruff, terror
, nigga and hard We all dealt fucked up cards but don't complain Just play the hand that you was dealt You play 'em right you prevail, you play 'em wrong
raw, 'cause I'm down by law Tryna play me 'cause I'm rappin', I will break yo' jaw Catch a *** in these streets, make you take clothes off Leave you dead
on his forehead make some moves Send flowers straight to his home Put a card in the motherfucker send it to his mama Tell her he was dead wrong dead wrong
on his forehead make some moves Send flowers straight to his home put a card in the motherf**ker send it to his mama Tell her he was dead wrong dead wrong
the pulse of nature Scaring spiritual devils while evoking the maker Is it wrong for me to curse in the name of right Is it wrong for me to spit life
mi face 'cause I gun Never judge a book by di cover, dat's wrong Dis is Fat Joe alongside di Banton Hey, what about Pun? Rudeboy, salute with your gun Terror
ya gotta tote fire Over town, they'll bust ya head 'cuz it won't slide Brown sub will wet your ass like a Dunk Ryde You're dead wrong for thinkin' them
