Indie in Indiana Hours early And this money burns holes in my pockets One foot after the other A ring A phone call from my mother "I know what was making
by the roadside At the truckstop to rest my tired eyes And I'm still pretending That you're still by my side Steady hands, get me out Steady hands, get me out
you I even did my hair for you I bought new underwear, they?re blue And I wore ?em just the other day Love, you know I?ll fight for you I left on the
bout mine And I aint the one you wanna beef with I'm thugged out Chorus: repeat 2X [B.G.] Look my block hot the law sleep every other day We beefin off top, we creep every other
on the other side I'm so high, and the motto Uptown is do or die Let's make it happen, think of an action Fuck rappin' I'm cappin', fuck yappin', gimme no dappin' Pull out
next nigga Out to have thangs I hustle hard for 6 figures Raised up thugged out, keep the fuckin gauge out Hoe shit done played out ya whole posse laid out
don't reach us [Verse 8: 50 Cent] When that window roll down and that AK come out You can squeeze your lil hand gun till you run out And you can run
Well I'm an energetic hypothetic version of another person Check out my outsides there ain't nothing in here Well I'm a superficial, systematic, music television addict Check out
would come with new weather as the blank dormers stared at each other, or into thick Autumn air. Was that Allston in late 89, or some other place, some other
, Endless questions, hopeless ending This bitter pill is pushing me away and now i feel Like there's nothing left to say and i pretend to Look the other
brother love I moved out and started really hangin I needed money of my own so I started slangin I ain't guilty cause, even though I sell rocks It feels
and Harlem And we ain't shootin' at eachother (fuck no), that's a motherfuckin' brother So save two, run for cover And other bitches from the clan Come feel
Oakland, Brooklyn and Harlem And we ain't shootin at each other That's my motherfuckin brother, so Dave Duke, run for cover And all the bitches from the Klan Come feel
pumpin slugs in these other thugs (GIVE IT UP NIGGA) Don't run out of breath Every step could be death 'til you blast And be the last nigga left, then
I've got this piece of change I feel strange I got so use to the hood That when I finally got out at first it ain't feel good I was just a baby still
everybody die Why the fuck they fuck around, we left 'em in the fog bleedin like a stuck hog, me and my closest road dogz [Chorus] [2Pac] Fuck they feelings
I moved out and started really hangin I needed money of my own so I started slangin I ain't guilty cause, even though I sell rocks It feels good puttin
classes The ones you left out, jobs were givin', better livin' But we were kept out Made to feel inferior, but we're the superior Break the chains in out
