a been okay though The very next day I gave Russell a ring With J.L. and Omar we all called don king I said, "Yeah, don I got a problem" Tell 'em Prince
a Saturday evening if I remember it right And we had just gotten back off tour last night So the gang and I thought that it would be groovy If we summoned up the posse and
you're dead" All through Philly was a high speed chasin' Dude was playin' around like he thought we was racin' A hundred miles an hour and he lost control And slammed my car into a
money or you're runnin' from the Feds Ain't nothin' over here but sixteen and one in the head And I solemnly swear That all y'all niggaz out there got a
a judge 'All rise' This gun'll knock plants off tall guys We value-packs, y'all small fries Yo, I'm from the projects Yo, but on the floor tied Don't matter, we
pin me for murder and a string of robberies Plus you a ex-con send me to the book 'cause press on Cash and bonds, they won't last very long I know they
what y'all want Y'all ain't said it first, I'm droppin' with a odor out my trunk Now what the hell is that, you smell that? All you see is a shoelace
a mic check I wouldn't have a check at all - a one two, a check a one two If it wasn't for a mic check you wouldn't have a check at all - a check two, a
at you if you need a shank over a cuete And then I'll call you a chavala As I rock over the jam in my '62 Impala And if you shoot you better kill Cause
don't stop, nigga, no pity" We all hoods and all we ever had was dreams Money makin' mothafuckas plot scandalous schemes In the gutter, you learn to have a
But you can never tell We might sharing a cell in hell Cause, my last request was Let my homies smoke my ashes and catch a Violent J buzz One more thing
't no thang Rapper dies of AIDS but you hardly mention Rocker blows his face off and becomes a legend Heroin and a shot gun and a hero was made Maybe
strong, Stayed holding on when the ease was gone. Now a days, everything's all right Millionaire rocking these microphones all night. Makin' all of our dreams come true, And we
Bring the wicked shit and the dead will arise Come on Got me a mic, and now we ache like the dead And all we wanna do is rock the dead So many thoughts
was strong Stayed holdin' on, when the ease was gone Now a days, everything's all right Millionaire rockin' these microphones all night Makin' all of our dreams come true And we
a little concerned. I haven't heard from you in a while and I've been tryin to get a hold of you all week and uhh *machine again* Hahahaha...Caught ya
, and he raved all day of his home in Tennessee, and before nightfall, a corpse was all that was left of Sam McGee. There wasn't a breath in that land
