[Verse 1] Pack a magazine just incase I gotta clap a boy for fuckin up my vibe Ever since I'm 17 had them jumpin jacks hopin in and out of rides Nobody that the sweat, nobody like rejects Stuck up Mister Softee with the wall with the Brooklyn Deceps Where you think the scar came from?! Nigga we been mobbin since day one Nigga when the cops rush niggas had to run stach the cracks in the pay phone nigga! Damn this depressed yet, triple gold diamond bezzled it Heavy is the head that wears the crown in the tub screamin fly pelican In the rooftops for the pigeons, niggas losin their religion Gold lots of those over Coca-Cola sweaters pitchin what was stitched in
[Interlude] What you know about pain! I know about pain nigga! Yeah! Uh!
[Verse 2] Against all odds Phil Collins hearin callin +In The Air Of The Night+ That sound of crack fiends in tag teams suckin air out the pipe Down the block from where it began took his last breath dirty mattress Uh! I feel like Al Capone how they did him dirty for them fuckin taxes Uh! Rest in peace Cato that shy rack I sling that bitch In the elevator goin up with B.I.G. me thinkin damn he rich Madoff made off like Robin Hood on them Wall Street kids Workin on the Basciat depend on what brush you paint it with
[Outro] Uh! Darkside 3!!!!!Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
