game I'll be damned if a thang changed, fuck the fame I'll be hustling to make a mill-ion, lord knows Ain't no love for us ghetto children, so we cold
can kick it, but I ain't tryin' to be in no commitment. I got too much stress dealin' with the system and tryin' to provide a house and home for my children
: You've been my golden best friend now with post-demise at hand can't go to you for consolation cause we're off limits during this transition this
I hate you and all you fucking assholes So fucking pissed off right now Yeah yeah temper, temper, calm down Webby Some of these website gon' post me
freeze!, freeze!, freeze! [Verse 2: Elzhi (Store Employee) {Children's voice}] Hey hurry up, get to closin the store I want the money in your pockets and everything you post
appearance is we still in the grind, and direct But on my side of town shit's gorilla, phone booths is broke Behind the building niggaz on post What up
was very eager Big stories to tell, jail house, rock that Supreme Clientele Bricks we buy and sell, we made it, it's on, when fam post bail When they
yet more tribulations than his own father? Nowadays hearts are rigid ? a symptom of the world weary The more information that the eyes get to see the more they get bleary Our children
the doctor, I went to the mountain, I looked to the children, I drank from the fountain We go to the doctor, we go to the mountains, we look to the children
fuckin care If I ain't strapped that means I took em off my Nike Airs Get off mine, y'all talk shit like little children when I ride mine like bitched
is what she left behind An apartment cluttered with children's toys, Photos of good times In the bedroom, there's sheets on the windows There's a four poster
like this world! Yo, on foreign land keep your toast up, hot rocks Catch a close up your snot box, broke up Land shark, tryin to post up, reptiles Trying
for living cause I'm the king And I'm giving you the permission to get with a no stress pack That was ordos at chlorum acuse the old world orders Post
Anymore Post-Traumatic War Machines / The Pessimists still won't believe Throw away my past mistakes / It's all I can to feel Let my weapons be you CHILDREN
bitch I'm in the building I'm the smack man! - I got a back hand like Serena Williams! He hungry like them Africans on the TV asking feed the children
measured by tradition, or any type of 'ligion, huh Not even cosmic dimensions and such But many fools, they try to post a duel Try to post a front but
: The hills find peace Locked armed guard posts Safe from the screams Of the children born as ghosts Gates guns and alarms Shape the calm of the dawn
this the type of shit that we dreamed of Money, cars, bitches and drugs I prevail, the crack sales then got in jail Couldn't post bail now my home is