Look, they don't wanna see me winnin' at all They don't wanna see my crooked smile grinnin' at all They don't want me in Bal Harbour spendin' ten in the mall Got hit with a few shells but they ain't finish me off Paralyzed a nigga face up and twisted my jaw I'm still the illest, still killin', still spittin' the raw Write about the shit I did or the shit that I saw I was really in the streets, you ain't live it at all You ain't never come to the hood, you ain't visit at all You ain't have to say rest in peace 'cause your nigga was gone Only time you bust your gun is when you get on a song I got the scope on the rifle I can hit 'em from long Yeah, Westside said, "keep killin' 'em, I employ you Kill everything and make it hard for them to ignore you" Listen to New York radio, bet the shit bore you They playin' all the corny niggas like the shit normal It's crazy, niggas can paint they nails Niggas dress like bitches and the shit still sells Beads in they dreads and dyin they hair colours I hit you with this gauge, you fly in the air, fucker I'm from a city where you die if you stare, fucker I'ma be rider until I get the chair, fuck it Wrist watches glisten I learn from OGs, instead of runnin' my mouth I would just sit watch and listen I quick pop the clip in And we get the shit poppin' And get to clippin' niggas like Chris, Doc and Griffin You get hit in your top 'til your shit drop in liquid, uhh A straight hollow hit your bitch top and lift it Griselda by Fashion Rebels, bitch I'm a misfit The streets say I remind 'em of Chris Wallace mix with Sean Price and Sigel, my shit popped just listen The jewels in every bar you just gotta listen My family never had shit, I switched our condition I'm 'bout to get my momma a big pot to piss in Used to get the yay' and use the big pot to whip it Ziplock it, then I use my bitch pot to pitch it, hahaTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
