a sparrow Lands on her gravestone I raise my head and realize I am no longer alone Haven of shadows in the garden of stones Cold wind blows out the
arrives a sparrow Lands on her gravestone I raise my head and realize I am no longer alone Haven of shadows in the garden of stones Cold wind blows
back's a sixty pound stone On my shoulder a half mile of line Come on up for the rising Come on up, lay your hands in mine Come on up for the rising
back streets of dirty Jersey Troops with scully hats and Timberland boots No more break-dancing for loot, niggas hustle and shoot In the Garden State
Everybody took everything that they could And they made a little town out of stones and out of wood, And they made a little king out of plastercine, And
bitch on lockdown See you hangin out with me tonight Everythings alright, but a nigga wanna fight Damn, that's a real player hater for ya Fuck it, I'll be waitin for
right Rhyme for my neighborhood banging out hits For ever backing up that Cypress Hill click To my man on the corner with the shotgun shell Singing sad songs for
news The seeds of distrust it will sow But unless you've made no mistakes in your life Be careful of stones that you throw A neighbor was passing my garden
seeds of distrust it will sow. So unless you have made no mistakes in your life, Be careful of stones that you throw. A neighbor was passing my garden
Durex condom I'm a -- opposite artist I find irony in going from being like a stone in the grass to rocking the Garden The same irony as going from fully
And I built a home For you For me Until it disappeared From me From you And now, it's time To live And time To die I'm in the garden where we planted
heat, picked up the microphone Started payin off the jewelers and flossin in stones Chunky and I ain't talkin chicken noodle soup Got a V for Vendetta
, daily bread Countin' till my fingers' red, how you gon' judge a man Walkin' in the shoes of a man with a broken leg? Flame on the trail headed for
Dusk to dawnin Waitin to catch me sleep But I'm not yawnin They in the vip At the garden They gon jump me When I stop performing I got something for
kids, seventy-four niggaz, SEVENTY-FOUR niggaz Fuck that I remember them niggaz with jheri curls Nobody's hardcore niggaz who souped up ready for the
nigga that kill 'em I'll fill 'em all full for that sicc reason Season of da siccness broodin', got me trippin' for no reason Guess what daddy's bringin' home for
