Songtexte:
Remembering Never From My Cold Dead Hands

Dependent on things not seen in black and white Responsibility is a dying art form Everything is out of (gun) control "From my cold dead hands" you said

Fair exchange when we fuck them hoes [2Pac] Repetitive blows are thrown, to my foes No love shown get disposed of blasted full blown My unknown tendencies to mash my car Getting wicked with my

d want to start this My crew is bottomless Street Lobotomists Gun slingers Glock cocked and diamond ringers Hustlers My nigga got shot but still alive He took a full clip from

I want [Chorus 1] I did it my way, from crumbs and roaches and rats I did it my way, converted in from hustling to raps I did it my way, from break

drops of blood on my shirt and I remember the doctors saying I was dead. And then later they had to take blood out of my hand 'couse they ran out or veins

freedom of choice who to listen to You knew good from bad, fair from foul, right from wrong Now your mother's singing that sad song (My baby ain't never

close But I got a buncha obstacles If it ain't my line of work it's the girlies on my popsicle Now everybody's got my baby Wantin' to have their hands in my

even know where to begin. Strapped down on my bed Feet cold, eyes red I'm out of my head Am I alive? or am I dead? Can't remember what they said God

ass shit Them ol? pussy ass niggas can suck my dick A cold back motherfucker from the 6 zone The same crippled motherfucker got picked on Now I ain't never