of control No deposits required Paradise won't take your soul A living hell for the stumbling few Paying the price for the likes of you A living hell
is silenced New dark age has begun The count-down was final Red button ran out of control No deposits required Paradise won't take your soul A living hell
Übersetzung: Running Wild. Straight To Hell.
red-nosed pit ready to scratch got you running like a bitch tryin to avoid the attack [B.G.] I ain't no rabbit, I ain't no rat I'ma a soldier that will give you hell
em with the funk left them drunk Hella scared straight Hell yeah Scared straight [Chorus: x4] This 2Pacalypse in this motherfucker And I'm scared straight
give a fuck} (What the fuck you looking at man?) {I need like five sales in a row, man Y'all niggaz fall back} (What the hell my niggaz at, man, straight
see that i let you go livin wild and free keeps me on the ground. and i'm running like hell to keep from goin down and i'm running like hell to keep
my topics Don't sweat my mic checks like bomb threats They passed wet didn't even bust yet I'm a foul ball, punk niggaz can't catch it In a straight jacket
burnt to a crisp Jump out the pot, "Yeah yo I got this" Long armor, construction's on, I'm pro-drama Catch me in the wildest beefs, I bring bombers Bearded
block that stays hot Leave it up to me while I be living proof To kick the truth to the young black youth But shorty's running wild smokin sess drinkin
early from tour Soon as I open the door I see a pair of shoes on the floor I know they ain't mine, I'm hundred percent sure Now there's wild thoughts just running
in bad shape, in the neck of New York Your slithering ways, lay with you a bad snake Smash bake, eight stab holes in your shoulder blades You wilding
green liar promotion Hell if I expose ya mad assed out blowing some backs out Them state street boys will get ya Betta be ducking when you running or
Hello to all my niggas and bitches Welcome to Digglers Wild World of Girls I'm sitting here with the Baddest Bitch (That's Right) So Trina tell us a little
Bitch Brick City, yo Yo, yo Funk Doc straight lunatic since young At 8 paint chips the rare moon That pair mics, my maintenance I battle you and then
the block that stays hot Leave it up to me while I be living proof To kick the truth to the young black youth But shorty's running wild smokin sess drinkin
if I want to I can't change my nigga's lines 'cause you on the shit list These bullets are relentless And ain't no way in hell that you avoidin' this