the game 'cause strange shit Was going down in town There was a pretty dear packin pound cakes A cocoa butter babe with papes jewels a black ac And mad
off track Cause about that point everything went black The next thing I remember is a head ache nagging I woke up face down in the back of a paddy wagon
saw a fairy in the back of your garden But it was nothing at all for you to remember Don't believe my eyes Memories turn to lies When they're changing sides
an ounce and six fifty when its dry, pyrex dishes in tha motherfucking kitchen, word around town Mr. Bigg got them chickens, that nigga bought a house for a
when, oh when Will the spirit come a calling for my soul to sin Oh when, oh when Will the keys to the kingdom be mine again? Oh when, oh when Will that
score. He turned into a side street and the lake wind hit him like a knife. Cab stop just ahead under a streetlight. Boy got out with a suitcase. Thin
be a strong n***a with conviction, The only problem was our little n***a wouln't listen, But when Doc say it's a wrap, it's a rap, It's still Aftermath
12 bars for that bitch he won't live through that Even a nigga with a ten-year bid knew that Put a gun in his mouth yeah, yeah do that He a pussy (sniff
me the keys, to a boat Reached in his trenchcoat, and pulled out a yellow envelope Which contained twenty thousand in cash, a photograph Of a Colombian nigga with a
Abstract fellow, hell of a song to sing Crash your party like a rocket ship Back from the outer limits Black with a lot of lip A rock with your wonder
to the game cuz strange shit was going down in town There was a pretty dear packin pound cakes a cocoa butter babe with papes jewels a black Ac and mad
turned to a leash dog and a steamer I'm on a plank, she's riding pistol in a Beamer, yo I'm thinkin' my best plan involves a meat cleaver and a steak
a sheet I'm not a real person, I'm a ghost trapped in a beat I translate when my voice is read through a sismograph And a noise is bred, picked up and
him, many cause him pain The lost shall be found, in weakness they are strong Those who long for life, flock to his side where love is nigh [Part 4 -
a hell of a spy Now me, 187, is a detonator More deadly than a hand grenade Much harder than a fool to fade Not a forty, not a quart or six-pack Me, K
doin' dirt I'm a hell of a spy Now me, 187, is a detonator More deadly than a hand grenade Much harder than a fool to fade Not a forty, not a quart
