[intro]
not! *echoing*
blackwall street
the game
beach boy
charli baltimore (he wears a red bandana)
rockstar
we are the black gang
free shye
mother f***ers! (he wears a red bandana)
[chorus]
on the front of murder talk (he wears a)
on the cover of the source you see (he wears a red bandana)
the whole world know (he wears a)
every n**** in the hood know (he wears a red bandana)
50 told the nypd (he wears a)
why you snitch on me and tell em that (he wears a red bandana)
all the pirus know (he wears a)
even my crip n****s know (he wears a red bandana)
[verse 1]
chea chea
dear god let me clense my soul/ throw away all the rims and the gold/
o no I cant do that/ do I love god? True dat/ but I got a gun so move back/
im loco like 5 eses in the side of chevelle ridin on low pros/
im a renegade ride with the 44/ been a gangbanger all my life, f*** the popo/
I aint never been a cocky kid/ know they could kill me if they shot pac and big/
but I let my bandana hang/ in the city of angles we gangbang/
I move that chronic and yayo/ way before I met 50, banks, buck and yayo/
ask eminem, even dr. dre know/ I put one in last ten in the range rov/
used to push that rock like jay hov/ you better lay low when the ak blow/
or get wings and a halo/ run to the hood and tell em im the n**** they gotta pray for/
yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah/
I said run to the hood and tell em im the n**** they gotta pray for, lay low and stay low
[chorus]
on the front of murder talk (he wears a)
on the cover of the source you see (he wears a red bandana)
the whole world knows (he wears a)
every n**** in the hood know (he wears a red bandana)
50 told the nypd (he wears a)
why you snitch on me and tell em that (he wears a red bandana)
all the pirus know (he wears a)
even my crip n****s know (he wears a red bandana)
[verse 2]
chea chea
im a gangbanger don’t get it f***ed up/ you aint never bang, you aint never laces chucks up/
so how the f*** you gon criticize me/ I aint the reason n****s is bangin the nyc/
makin bulls*** threats on the m.i.c./ I don’t wake up in cold sweats when I sleep/
I live comfortably/ with a red rag tied around the 45 in case n**** try to come for me/
mad cause I started my own company/ I don’t know what the f*** n****s want from me/
except something for free/ before the documentary dropped, you b**** n****s wasn’t bumpin me/
and to some degree/ I gotta keep that 4-5th under me/ I don’t run from beef/
it’s either cock back, squeeze, or be underneath/ cause im from the streets of (compton)
and my grandmother died before I was multi/ wasn’t raised right cause my parents was both high/
high off cocaine, my introduction to the dope game came in 85 watchin soul train/
mama told me I was the future, and one day I’d be high like soul plane/
just don’t bang/ but back then, I’d do anything for a jerri-curl and a gold chain/
n****s always got something to say/ like they aint never bumped n.w.a./
punk n****s talk s***, but when they need hits they come runnin to dre/
n****s come to LA when they need to talk/ cause kanye told everybody jesus walks/
bush killed more n****s in the towers then gangbanging ever did, that’s why they need new york/
[chorus]
on the front of murder talk (he wears a)
on the cover of the source you see (he wears a red bandana)
the whole world knows (he wears a)
every n**** in the hood know (he wears a red bandana)
50 told the nypd (he wears a)
why you snitch on me and tell em that (he wears a red bandana)
all the pirus know (he wears a)
even my crip n****s know (he wears a red bandana)
[outro]
yeah mother f***ers
chuck taylor
o you thought I forgot about that alias huh
im going back to my roots
g-unit is dead
as a staff, a record label, and a mother f***in group
your clothes cant sell
your shoes are straight garbage
your movies suck!
chicken little killed you n****
hahahaha *echos*
how you like it n****
I took yo style
I aint doin no third verse
imma just talk to you n****
like you do when you get mad at me cause you cant f*** with me lyrically mother f***er!!!
you gon do one of those sing song little clucky poppy hooks
you like the rap linsey lohan you f***in faggot
write 8 bars about me n****
I do this s*** all day 50!
curtis jackson
boo boo
marcus…snitch
black wall street c. e. o. mother f***as!
hurricanes in stores december 26th
stop snitchin stop lyin the dvd in stores december 6th
it’s a tell all n****
wait till my movie come out
im glad it aint based on my life
with that knock off 8 mile s***
you could never be eminem mother f***er
you aint lyrically inclined enough to be jay-z, nas, b.i.g. or pac
and in the modern day…today, tomorrow, next week
you cant f*** with the game n****!
out |
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