and got nothing good at Son, I was wrong they were right And now every if and every why Lay my head on the line every if and every why And it hurts and
eyes and got nothing good at Son, I was wrong they were right And now every if and every why Lay my head on the line every if and every why And it hurts and
stand and try to hide it I smoke a bowl or a spliff and uplift my sprits then I take a bong hit Hit it fuckin' hard and clear it Hit it with the left
beats and rhymes and room to thrive and I swear that I'll always come live and direct Inspect the jam from every angle that you can And you might interpret
That's one every let's say two, two of them shits was due One was - NAHHH, the other was "Illmatic" That's a one hot album every ten year average And
toes out Shit I don't fuck with no stingy nigga I rock Prada, Chanel, and Fendi nigga What I'mma do with your little blunts and Henney nigga? I'mma Major
claim, hey I'm from the back blocks of harlem , where they mack and revolve em if he ask for a problem, walk up in the building clack up and rob em, harlem
, show em how we rock it Keep it pumpin through the summer, stuff them chips up in my pocket Super-saki gin'll keep my style all in your grill Every where
the mind and the muscle 50 carrats in the crown just to shine on you suckas I still tote the Glock 40 for the haters and the bustas Fuck probation, if
Licks Before Them 6 Fingers Nigga And If Youve Done It How We Done It Nigga Watch For The Law Cuz We Knew When They Were Commin. Nigga Haaands Up! And Every Summer
get some liquor for shorty who said she make us some chicken And if we get 'em drunk enough we probably could freak em, and do it every other weekend If
station off the open ashe and ignite gas C-ARSON the bushwazee, hot as hell in summer Fuck a puppy truck, but us niggaz get Dumb and Dumber But it's
her for you [Chorus: (sung)] Every time I make a run, girl, you turn around and cry I ask myself why, oh why See, you must understand, I can't work
's cryin', and then my voice comes in pow And in the middle of the night and this is what I tell her for you Every time I make a run, girl you turn around
care about a muthaf***a out there My heart cold and my wrist rock And I f*** around and die over Hip Hop I treat a dollar like a mill, countin' every bill 'Cause if
and others are blocking I'm running the hood and nothing can top it You can Google it and you can search it On how a nigga come and unlock it, impossible
