I bout to finally look up the lyrics
Will be back
edit
7 A.M., woke in the morning
With Hen' and caffeine and green and nicotine
No dough, so pop a couple of doze
Lil' RIPsta, nikka Mista Clean
nikka Dean, deep in my temple and not to get
Sentimentally steamed with my
Instrumelody, and heated
Especially for your team
And a .45, indeed, will beam
In between the scenes. Destroy your dreams
You willing to die? we'll see
How many flee when I 'cause the scene
We mean mug, Mo' Thugs
Trained to be perfect disciples
When it's survival, tongue is a double-edged sword
Triple six rivals spitting fire
This the real truth, bytch
Breaking out for lies
My Messiahs better be ready for Armageddon, shyt's expired
It's wild, bless the child
The one that became a man
Put in positions off in the Clair
All that I had to do was stare
Test me now. Contender never no surrender, no pretend
Pick up my pen, in my hand
One of my trusted friend-friends, hey
Open it! Let's see if we're real, we all suited
Beg my pardon to Martin
Baby we ain't marching, we shooting!
In daily recruiting there's a thug born
Everyday in the ghetto
We start em off little, we give em a bible
And a pen and a pad to hit the label, kick it
nikka roll with Bone up into the Thug spot
To the dome with a shot of bird
Never get tossed to the curb
Be feeling that urge to splurge
But I'm broke as fukk, Sin, gimme that Mossberg swerve
Up into my bag, 'cause I gotta get my mask and shells
To put in this 12-gauge sawed-off
Get 'em hauled off, nikka your loss, take it all off
Got a nikka caught off
But the Bone not Leatherface, too many are thinking they thugs
And little Mo Hart want to pull it and bust it
And bytch if you steppin' we buckin' them guts, that's fukked up
Now let me get done with the grime
Gotta go purchase a dime
Put in a state to get done with the crime
Smoking the reefer to ease my mind
Swig some wine, step on the block with the rocks
But really we be serving em dummies, see?
Gotta buck him on down if he come back talking
Like, gimme back me money
Thugging with me killers
Need us a liter of liquor but nikkas ain't got shyt
With a sawed-off pump, chrome .38 pistol
Now who ready to get bent?
nikka like me fiending for them green leaves
But I ain't had no dough
Gotta make some money, so
I'm making my dummy rocks if I go broke
"