The songs we play Don't equal the bills we have to pay So it's blood for cash I sell my cells to feed myself And fill my tank with fossil fuels Chorus
Payback is just a word to keep our spirits up And take karma into our own hands This is where the rumors start And boys somehow regain their hearts
(Instrumental)
[Hidden Track] Nah man Not quite finished yet Girl I think, You just might'a tried to pull a muh'fucking fast one, I'm mad You just hurt my goddamn
ness like show b`ness In the hood they say, there`s no b`ness like hoe b`ness ya know They say I talk a lil fast, but if you listen a lil faster I ain
want (and I really wanna let you know) Forget 'bout all them other girls before (forget 'bout all them other girls before) Wanna get involved with you All them other
all become clear? ‘Cuz I’m being taken over by The Fear [End chorus] Life’s about film stars and less about mothers It’s all about fast cars in cussing each other
we think it will all become clear 'Cause I'm being taken over by fear Life's about film stars and less about mothers It's all about fast cars and passing each other
with skill with technique. computer a-dat My lyrical form is clouds on your brainstorm I get hyped think thought flow. acrobat, sink the track, pump the track
stop. They want me in the ground, but I won’t stop. ‘Til I’m dead, man, I won’t stop. No. Yeah, I think they mad ’cause I’m driving in the fast lane
up up, the charges will climb Every young rapper trying to get you to jump But when you're all done jumpin' I'ma get you what you really want Track by track
beat then with me they join Others sworn, under oath or banished, left completely scorned You tell lies, get caught, nigga kick rocks You never did blend in with the big shots On the fast track
Jet you through the fast lane drop ya on death row 'Cause anybody who's been there knows that life ain't so lovely On the blood-soaked fast track that
on a mission Bad move, you end up missin [ ROUND 1: Randy Mac ] Let's get it straight for the '89 tip Randy Mac is clockin a stupid grip On the party track
shovel's for drama, need I say more? Got the fat stash spot under my passenger floor That's for the other strap, the automatic type I gotta keep it close
stop. They want me in the ground, but I won't stop. 'Til I'm dead, man, I won't stop. No. Yeah, i think they mad 'cause I'm driving in the fast lane
yard I sell it whip on whip, it's off the hard I'm the neighborhood Pusha Call me sub woofer, 'cause I pump bass like that, Jack On or off the track,