Tekst:
Fashion The Like Knives

your switchblade knives And cut it up Kill the ones who speak if they speak of us Cause they'll never really tame us Go get your guns and your switchblade knives

hit a million dollar target, You ain't came up yet well nigga' let me show ya, (aaaa) Come across dope like planes and boats, Like baloons filled with

in your crib or the outside world 'Cause the pound clap well, like fan mail Choose to ignore me? The warnin' that I gave 'em Get at me, you an' what army? The fashion

shadows. I am dreaming and cannot hold it. I have seen. (Dear Christ: the silence and the loss; we are born and fall. Dear Christ, you too are broken and lost and hanging like

in my lifetime) Ill B Uh (like that) You need to recognize 21 years of pure bullshit It makes me wanna bang my head on the walls And do some shit like

punches I survive and rock Cause I keep the crowd alive And the texture of my voice Is course and kind of hoarse and cut Like I'm throwing a thousand knives

That old fashioned word, it's a word called love Called love, called love, hung up, hung up This must be the way the nigga 'Pac felt When he made 'Me

punches I survive and rock 'Cause I keep the crowd alive And the texture of my voice Is course and kind of hoarse and cut Like I'm throwing a thousand knives

[Unknown singing] That old fashioned word.. it's a word called LOVE! Called looooove, called looo-oooo-oooo-oooo-oooo-ove [Jay-Z] Oh! This must be the