|
Tragedy Khadafi! |
|
The Foul Mahdi! |
|
Life's a bitch - we open her up like C-sections |
|
Pour liquor on the asphalt for my dogs restin' |
|
It's foul sport - you get iced with the Wesson |
|
Pay attention - my nigga, learn a lesson |
|
Rule one: never pull out guns and don't bust 'em |
|
Your dog can't look you in the eye, don't trust 'im |
|
Be the same niggas that'll split you like dutches |
|
Try to flame niggas when they get you in they clutches |
|
You talk like a gangsta, walk like a gangsta |
|
Watch for them haters - they tryin' to get your paper |
|
The streets is a foul thing, a wild thing |
|
You wasn't locked in Sing Sing - you just love to sting |
|
How you a thug nigga - and you scared of the bing? |
|
I'ma tell y'all niggas one thing |
|
(Ya heard me?) |
|
You was hot 'til we dropped and reduced your fever |
|
Heir to this thug shit like Julius Caesar |
|
Chorus: |
|
All my convicts, felony thugs, forever on the run |
|
Live by the gun, die by the gun |
|
Where you eat food, snatch plate, wherever drama come |
|
Live by the gun, die by the gun |
|
When it jump off - make it pop, you be the only one |
|
Live by the gun, die by the gun |
|
In this game of life - play hard, you only got one |
|
Live by the gun, die by the gun |
|
Yo - every man bleed like I do, so why fear you? |
|
That bullshit you throwin' at me - I can't hear you |
|
But what I throw back - something that you can feel |
|
Teflon emerge from steel - shit is real |
|
A fishscale, verbally ill - no cut |
|
Hip-hop nearly lost its form until I struck |
|
Been rappin' since crack was packed in tall capsules |
|
Now I rock platinum chains and ice statues |
|
Guerrilla gat - combat rap - shit'll blast you |
|
I cock back and squeeze - what you fools gonna do? |
|
Just a copy of Mahdi - graft like Yacub |
|
My niggas on 162 |
|
Makin' pie |
|
P.R. savage, Lincoln Hall in Comstock |
|
A flock of birds stash crib soon as you touch ground |
|
You know my homies gotta live, yo burn it down |
|
You know my homies gotta live, yo burn it down |
|
Chorus |
|
You either end up dead or some vegetables |
|
While we escape with the extraterrestrials |
|
2-5 embassy - now who next to lose? |
|
Mahdi, Khadafi, your highness will rule |
|
Carnivorous thug - digest your food |
|
It's like the Art of War volume two |
|
Underworld shit |
|
Duct tape, kidnap rap, clap your girl shit |
|
You got trees, then twirl it |
|
My niggas 'url wit' |
|
Iceberg velour suits and suede moccasins |
|
Air niggas out - deprive them of their oxygen |
|
My raps - blowin' the world off its axis |
|
Ignitin' like matches - burnin' the illest graphics |
|
In Morocco in the drop with the top low |
|
Me against the world - still I can't be stopped, though |
|
My hoes like to ride on top and rock slow |
|
I flame-throw - my chain glow like a rainbow |
|
Chorus |
