I'm pulling out, I just got the ride, a tune up Washed up, fin to hit the Boulevard and find a new slut I'm high, and I'm full of that blue stuff A nigga
sopposed'a, respect a nigga like me I'm gettin' closer and closer to the T-O-P I'm H-O-T, bitches say I'm a D-O-G I'm on surveilance all day be the S-
makes no mistakes, it's been on since the day I was born Stop drop, or get lead in your knot I'm known in hip-hop, but I'm still ridin around with my
the Talk Of New York homie I stay in the hood Lodi Mack got the Mac so I'm always good You see the Bentley pull up I'm livin' it up And when my wolves
: (feat. M.O.P.) [M.O.P Intro] Hahahahahaaa Yeah Nigga Whoo.. The Smoke of New York Get up, Come On! Ah! [50 Cent (M.O.P) Chorus] There's nowhere to
in a lil bit I can show ya how I live in a lil bit I wanna unbutton your pants just a lil bit Take 'em off and pull 'em down just a lil bit Get to kissin
Than My Brain, Young Crime Is Pay, New Cadillacs And Bonnevilles The Very Next Day, I Just Hope He Learn, I Aint Have Much To Say, Lead Jus Squeeze The Life Out
-e-l-l-o, h-e-l-l-o, h-e-l-l-o?) Hello? (H-e-l-l-o, h-e-l-l-o, h-e-l-l-o?) Hello? (H-e-l-l-o, h-e-l-l-o, h-e-l-l-o?) Hello? (H-e-l-l-o, h-e-l-l-o, h-e
I'm still myself, suicide bars I kill myself Charge it to the game, I'll bill myself and I don't feel ya'll but I feel myselllf [? ]Tell em' I deserve
they inject Something's not right I'm sorry, I'm mentally retarded Slim Shady I think thats my name I'm ice grillin you, starin you down with a gremlin grin I'm
over Faggot nigga hopped in the Liberty, fake Range Rover I'm on his (Tail) like, Sonic lil' shorty Palmin on a 40, broad day I'm tryin to dodge a cover
a number I can't do Rather it be the streets, then jail where I die at And I'm ashmatic, so I'm lookin' for somewhere to hide at But they too close, and
you pe-eople why Came from the bottom of the block I When I was born, it was sworn, I was never gon' be shit Had to pull the opposite out this bitch Had
go Whoa-o (whoa-o), whoa-o (whoa-o) Whoa-o (whoa-o), whoa-ho (whoa-ho) Whoa-o (whoa-o), whoa-o (whoa-o) Whoa-o (whoa-o), whoa-ho (whoa-ho) [Verse
V.I. pop stars, I'm strapped like Bokeem Gettin' shot, pa, no turn back with those keys Try'nna shop hard, bigger than obese And I say I cop cars, I
I cock back glocks, got more pull than slang shots Hit G spots by givin hoes back shots I'm a young country boy, long socks with flip flops But I pull
way i'm keeping it hood I tell you baby call me durty i'm from deep in the woods When you hear the young stitches say that i'm nice though I stay with
