is. Wit' my treason came a cause that I believed in Is it really wrong if a nigga got a reason? At times I had ta' take doe Nigga did whatever for a peso
never ending greed Some born to win, some born to loose What fate may come, only time can tell Better to live in sin than nothing else to choose Servant
'm lyin', who gives a fuck that's so tired While pictures of Bravehearts just livin' it up A million of us, each nigga inchin' a bus You got a house in
; Pull a nine out during a rhyme bout While I'm rippin this shit, put a clip in it spit five rounds And murder you hoes worse than a convertible flippin
came a cause that I believed in Is it really wrong if a nigga got a reason? At times I had ta' take doe Nigga did whatever for a peso Bein' from the hood
shit up Until my peeps come home, Zeke come home, better believe I'm a keep on beastin' on [Cam'Ron] Where should I began our pompous A thousand wins
Tell that trick nigga (come back please!) Rob a L7, that's a square You a bottom hoe, you got to know Off you I plan to make a lot of dough So suck fast
better than the schools I'm not an asshole I'm just a little confused Just a lit fuse in the back of the pews Watching a thousand flavors of the same
a mandate. We're all actors in this I suppose. What has happened is that in the last 20 years, America has changed from a producer to a consumer. And
m a give it to 'em my design is rhyme in the ghettoist form Show power the child of the ghetto is born Uh, feet first, preach give a speech I kick ya
the words to my first born .. Hey nigga talk to your born, talk to your seed nigga [Above the Law] Two thousand somethin somethin it's a new era A nigga
All you petty MC's in the state of New York Gettin' a thousand for a show but you still wanna squawk Can't get a decent contract, your beats ain't workin
) Ill Will.. You need to give it up.. we don't give a fuck what y'all niggaz want.. we don't give a fuck Thug, life, is, mine Y'all need to give it up
was a tree and a MC grew and became (Brooklyn!) Another rapper born in Queens, 9/6 the b-day Moms moved and born {?}, dad hit the freeway My young life
to break a steerin column, didn't have to cook a rock A damn goodie two-shoes, that what they call ya Never judge a person or a book by it's covers Just
re Godless in your Character Like your pop you're a natural born replica No Better I was chief of the heathens far from a Amateur Anxious to make a statement
