What's the point cos in the end it's just the same again and again i'm on a road to nowhere when it ends what the fuck is there?
Mostly over bullshit Repeatedly Deep in me there's a part that wants nothing but love But the rest of me knows war is what's waiting for us So I
em and murk 'em I'm observin' in my hood, these niggas be dumbin' Shots go off at the dice game, all you see is 'em runnin' They make it harder and harder
: [Bizzy] Could you tell me where you run to (When it's rent time and I done spent mine ba-by) When it ain't nowhere to turn to (When it's rent time
blunts cigar scent Im by myself and niggas run they mouths like auctions T streetz my brotha Fefe's my brotha And we stay on point like a fuckin box
ain't no punk or no pooh-butt Step to me, the cops are still diggin niggaz up What's up? What's up? What's up? You wanna try your luck You move you weave
streets When I'm on Oprah or Donahue They try to sweat a nigga But they just didn'T figure What my wit's as quick as a hair trigger "He's not your everyday
I see you stagger in With crumpled photographs of where you've been I'm feeling guilty I confess It's hard to see you such a mess I know no matter what
But we cry the same cry Jin; rapping: To wake up daily and sleep better nights That's what we all wish for to seek a better life, right? It's unfortunate
mankind. ("Kind. Kind. Kind...") For real, for real. I'm 'bout to do my thing to shine. Said everybody shine. C'mon." It's not luck that I'm sittin'
shot and shanked Where there's tremendous pain, you get your frame inflamed Crushed to dust, by the next man's clutch It's Infamous you fucks, intense bad luck
the album, you heard) Yes sir "This is for, all my smokers" "This is for, all my smokers" [Redman] Aiyo, Meth, what's up, nigga? [Method Man] Doc, what's
nothing Make it go away Fighting the battle that's growing within It doesn't matter if I lose or win It's getting to the point where I can't get
fork Or drive a cab to New York Cuz to talk to you is harder work So what's the point of wasting all my words If it's just the same or even worse
STOP HIM!!" No more Mr. Nice Guy, I'm a tyrant L.A.'s finest, Open Bar behind us Don't look hard, it ain't too hard to find us From here to infinity,
myself and niggas run they mouths like auctions To streets my brother Fefe's my brother And we stay on point like a xxxxxxx box cutter you heard what
: [RZA] Wait, hold up, chill, what's that son? Damn.. nigga got fucked, shit, huh?! By his back, watch nigga run Seven the center of your eight point
