you win, but you can also loose, That's the nature of what you choose. So now you're breakin' up, But don't stop, don't stop. Make up your mind
and niggas can't stick together All thru my teens, twenty's seven when I'm thirty Txx Will a be gritty, grimey, constantly dirty [Chorus] [x2] [Verse 4
niggas can't stick together All thru my teens, my twenty's seven when I'm thirty Txx Will'll be gritty, grimey, constantly dirty [Chorus] [Repeat 2x] [Verse 4
Is In Heaven) [Chorus] [Verse Three] I hit the planet like a plague The Book of Revelations red dragon with ten horns and seven heads and seven crowns
Told my homie drive and pull the car to the side of the road They pulled up said a word or two until I proceeded to unload Bullets lighting up the backseat
the whole world This fatal dawg against everybody (it's on) Better be twenty-five once this shit you never fuckin heard Outlaw, outlaw, we rate these breaks
up Baking soda beaken cup stretch it out whip it up 2 to 4, 4 to 8 I can make it double up Glock 40 hush em up If a nigga rushin up Ak47 banana clip bitch
and get a check Turn up your deck, this dope We iced up and priced up, and crawling in Benzos [Verse 6: Powda] Seven twenty fo' I be sacking them digits
callin' on the meek and the poor To fight back and never forfeit the day you have to go to war With forces that are armed upon the seven continental
do the blast, then eiht you get cash in Dash, the fuck out the cut Fifty bullets up in the nuts, nigga that's how we runnin up I-pulls-my-hat-to-the-back
no justice 'cuz the justice ain't to be did Bitch you usin' too much red Now I've been known to break niggaz off Hard type or soft, line 'em up chalk 'em up
's all real (real) you haters was born to piss me off Or i kill (kill) nigga we comin' to break you off nigga break you gonna break you Off somethin'
pistols showin' Spendin' a couple K's up in Stroker's Flyin' up Peachtree, racin' in the roster's I'm so icy and I think they like me Seven Jeans saggin
rollin (Keep it Rollin!) I'm gettin drunk blowin weed wit the pistols showin' (Watch Em!) Spendin a couple K's up in Stroker's (Right...) Flyin up Peachtree
with more shit missin than a lil' kim radio edit Stick up kids be tryin to live paid You get your grill sprayed with twenty-seven bullets in your ribcage
turn off the cameras At 6 o five the guards go on break for milk and banannas Six thirty guards come back from break and back on with the cameras So that gives us twenty
, no exceptions Hey yo light the blunts up, cook the coke up One Times out, so what motherfucker I'm tryin' to blow up And when they show up I put the
