were I've got too many pockets on my shirt Wish I could get back to the way things were I've got too many pockets on my shirt Too many pockets on my
gotta pocket fulla songz (I gotta pocket fulla songz) I gotta pocket fulla songz (I gotta pocket fulla songz) I gotta pocket fulla songz (I gotta pocket
a bunch of babies that ain?t never had sh-t Give away a few Mercedes like here lady have this And last but not least grant somebody their last wish
on 22's, loud sounds with screens Who up in there, that got them chickens fixing they hair And getting naked full of Cristal, that's the lifestyle So I hit the club, with a pocket
rule the world It's my own design It's my own remorse yea Help me to decide Help me make the most of freedom and of pleasure Nothing ever lasts forever
Kid Ice, Brother Marquee and Mr. Mixx. They droppin' some new shit; and ain't about all that bullshit y'all been hearin' for the last two or three years
fuck on the first night, or try, in the late night [Chorus] * DJ Quik cuts and scratches this sequence 2X* Last night.. last night changed it all 'Pac] In the late night Last
at Harlem to the shot callers in O' And though, Congress, don't want us to progress our step My homie buried at an early age hustled to death His last
the world, nigga Can't nobody feel your pain The world's changin everyday, times moving faaast My girl said I need a raise, how long will she last?
streetz Rest in peace young nigga, there's a Heaven for a 'G' be a lie, If I told ya that I never thought of death my niggas, we tha last ones left
hope they bury me and send me to my rest Headlines readin MURDERED TO DEATH, my last breath Take a look picture a crook on his last stand Motherfuckers
are dying Living Fast, too fast These felonies be like prophecies Begging me to stop Cuz These lawyers getting money Everytime they knock us Slashing pockets
fun I never had a crumb. Daddy worked two jobs and Mama won't stop drinkin' rum. I tried to cope loc but my family's broke And my pocket's short so
be on tour, but now I'm sick of strugglin I thought about bumpin, but mother-fuck jugglin I know it lasts longer, gets my pockets thicker But I'd rather
my style's ten to twenty fuckin pounds more I take you quicker than a picture of a punk ya pickin shit pickin pockets with a razor stoppin Russian rockets
lucky but the nigga's just a little bigger, he tryna fuck me out my cash, imma blast nigga, he don't know i gotta tell ya like the last nigga, gotta go
: You see this world painted, in shades of green, there is no end to your heartless Greed that consumes this land of oppurtunity Line your pockets
you get your ass beat Now Nik my bottom bitch, she always come up with my bread The last nigga she was with put stitches in her head Get your hoe out of pocket
