were getting unrestrained And I was looking like Ichabod Crane I was looking for some serious fun 'Cause a bad excuse is better than none Then it hits me, yeah, it hits me
Blank spitter If this was a ball game I'd throw a no-hitter You the dead body I'll be your undertaker All my hits turn to bread so just call me the baker
kill him Never figured that, that same nigga sell five million Hit the charts like a mad man nothing but hits Court cases got a nigga facing multiple digits Dodging cop cars
makin pushes outta the bushes And makin these hits stay move the streets Rebels and warriors all ova the globe Find their souls and rock these beats Maybe to me
need If I share with you my story, would you share your dollar with me [Verse 1: Chris Webby] You see I'm broke, I'm not tryna brag About money, cars
ha) But wants to be a rock star, drivin hot cars (yeah) Livin large, gettin girls like an all-star (right) Filthy rich knockin hits out the ball park (
to hear me out there Can y'all hear me out there? Uhh Through blocks and boroughs, cops is plottin Snakes slither while hustlers chop they product Foreign cars
gotta rhyme no more [Twista:] Welcome to my hood where poor members of faculty backin me If you wanna try or trackin me, that could be when I eat em
s still in me to produce hits; Y'all be killin me As if I need to make mo' - I got a mansion and six cars that are paid fo' - suck my dick! {Hello..}
brutality shit This unity is gettin to me Every brother on the street is my homie I'm rollin through a hood that I never been And every brother steps to me
true ?? Man no listen Daddy Nitro like a fierce ?? Me flow upon de mic from a ?? area Pam pamma, original chat masta Me pam pamma, original chat masta Me pam pamma, me
the public at large. Behold the metamorphosis Fuck platinum, platinum just aint good enough we need more money, more house and cars and stuff I'm sick
a list of hits next to all my names I came, if the sky should fall And it all goes tomorrow, and they foreclose on the house and auction off all my cars
trap your mind Keep your spirit alive read your books Matter of fact, let me take you somewhere Vibe with me, c'mon [Jay-Z] Now me and my lil' mama,
check, wasn't no scratch So if I stole, wasn't my fault Yeah I stole, never got caught They take me to the back and pat me Askin' me about some khakis
what (like what, like what) Brooklyn, Uptown (yeah) Beak it down one time, to y'all (Queen of the Click) Lookie here, look at me, hah Me and my boys
Winston, Machintosh Lightning hits the top of the church steeple When I'm writin, semi-automatic no hyphen It's frightening.... {*scratches*} [Chorus] The thief's theme, play me
