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| Transcriber | GB-5 ounce crew | Lyrics Correct | |
| [email protected] | 100%
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| Source | Grand Champ CD | Yes | No | |
| Nigh goes down i dont get a small piece of,
get the picture? see there's buitie in the beast of, the mad man, the bad man is here coz a niggar like me smells reck in the air. just stay fair shit that i be do'in to niggars, get away with the same shit rouen the niggars, cover all ground and i think like to fall. only muther fucken friend i ever had was a dog, never ate the hog but glad to say i smoked plenty of it. the fifth presinct to name one of many of 'em, in one verse i beat you worse than your mom, i fuck around, i eat you first like dommin's. uh, play that ass out like a bomb. kill the niggar for looken like he wanted drammer. im buggen, the pain it hurts, i gotta' screem, ahhhh!!!! letten off a little steam. society was just to much, couldn't hack it, six futher fucken year in a straight jacket, the blanket. it wasn't wise for them to let me out the join, i never really got better, so im not off piont, i just might flip quick, it's to late to be bitchen, i got more loose screws than the table in your kitchen, im itchen, i hpe you aint' around when i scratch, its like i said befor, i eats what i catch. searchen shit, will have you hurted shit, the dirt you kick, will get you in the dirt quick, word, some niggars is kid's, dont play, ima' say words gona'happen if you force my hand, someone, somewere will be like i lost my man, take the hardest, it's about to get dark so run that, all that shit niggars talken, bin' there done that, what black? think it's a act? lem'me know. aight bout he like what im sayen, so shut the fuck up and let me flow, yo you think it's a game keep playen, they gonna find your ass somewere in a creek layen, it's over you just aint laid down yet and in a minute you gonna be that muther fucker that aint feelen, hold off'a maken' moves, and make moves, stop talken bout shit that you can't prove, im a mountain you can't move so why you tryen? looken at me stupid wonderin' why you flyen throught the air, with a big ass hole through your chest. (bark like dogg) wishen you was holden a vest, but its too-late for wishen' here so you getten a rest, go to sleep, pa, pa, we'll talk care of the stress, god bless and my he has mercie on your soul. pop...pop, take these to more with you on your strole, niggar....... |
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