When I was 17, there was no in-between I left my heart in magazines and TV screens I walked a lonely road where only beds would go I watched the bombs
Hey hey, I got a monster in the closet The door's open even though I've tried to lock it His teeth are long, he's gonna eat me today No matter what you
We left in rocket ships, just like the cartoon strips, or movie scripts we've seen up on projection screens We left the earth for a new place of worth
planning how I'll get out alive if you decide that's enough, and now it's time I die If you break in tonight, this is what I'll cry: 2, 3, 4, no no
Roll over, then pull it, got my bullet in my fo fo Gotta stand, it's turnin' to a jungle Comin' out a 4-door Benz and I spend a lot for show No, no,
already buckin' Bust me lead on the double glock 'n Where the fiends roll up for rocks 'n This perfect getaway, from the pigs when I peel and I hit the
hit me all the time my phone be ringing off the hook like) [Ciara and Mindless Direction] We just two love birds, that's why we always tweetin'! [Ciara] He hit
on mayne (B-Legit!) Ya Capable (E-40 man!) Ya Capable Ya Capable Peep it. Verse 1 *(Yukmouth)* Eh, eh uh Live an direct 4-5 an a Tech niggas
, but ya don't understand Now I gotta stand with the glock in my hand No scope and there's no hope 'Cause I'm dishin' out my 4 5 slug and it ain't missin
about to catch a bullet scar I give a fuck where you from who you be with keep this a secret right by the nuts a 4-5 that'll light niggas up and this 4
you're about to catch a bullet scar I give a fuck where you from, who you be with Keep this a secret, right by the nuts A 4-5 that'll light niggaz up and this 4
a blunt, and dial 9-1-7 1-6-0-4-9-3-11 And you can long dick hip-hop affection I damage any MC who step in my direction I'm Staten Island's best son
ya death date Rook down a E4 look, it's checkmate No other way to describe a catastrophe The plan was drawin' blood and displayed it graphically Direct order, hit
your girlie lick them Every time we rollin' Twiztid's gotta roll a joint I almost died from inhilation comin' back from Cedar's Point Hookers and zombies in every direction
in these city streets Or with the pistol playin' for you Mr. Reaper Forgive those, I explode like C 4, so give me 50 feet Bustin' shots in every directions
Yeah, I mean, M.A.D.E, no mob shit Money, Attitude, Direction, and Education Some real shit Think about my hood one time, my hood, it's trippin' Thinkin
a killa with me as I pass the nine Don't be a weak muthafucka, get your brain on strap Hit the blunt one more time 'fore we hit the gat Got to dis '
3 below And I got it made without a cleaning hoe No freestyle but this joint is a freebie yo I dead mic's no CB4, I'm dead nice You meanies Joe, where
