stressed Look around for conscious rappes yo there ain't none left I'm holdin it downbetter yet I'm holdin up Waitin for some young buck to come and
with this, standin' with the pistol grip Loadin' up my shells, I smells me an enemy Damn if a nigga don't die 'fore he get to me Ride with the Luger let it go, let
the shit Let everything I'm on remain a hit, and bang the clip Don't wanna get hit, get out my lane and shit Fuck you and who-ever you hanging wit Let
, ah, muthafucka can't fight the feelin' the way I'ma fuck 'em Have an orgasm but for the orchasm, killed 'em as if a 4-5 buck 'em Talk about a man being
to say on my d-ck But since we talking about my dick All of you haters say hi to it I'm Done [Twista] Now let a track go past like this and Twista not
message from Shakur all you got is a bitch. aint no pride in ya bitch, she let em have it she fit. she devide them clips and let em scatter. and she'd
gon' clap back (Let's take 'em to war niggaz!) We gon' clap back, we gon' clap back We gon' clap back, we gon' clap back (Let's take 'em to war niggaz
, fuck them choppers, We got grenades, drop one then our work will be done, Now we done handled that, let's get some herb out the mac, And fuck parle'n, let
rap guys They don't know what the fuck they're doing I hate those fuckers, I hate 'em Especially that one guy The Amerikkka's most wanted Ice Cube, I hate
it'll be fly if u were my b-u-d-d-y don't be shy give it a try i can be urs and u can be mine [young buck] im in the porche no pants and stuff fealin
ahead and switch the style up And if them hate the let them hate then watch the money pile up Stay fresh, dress like a million bucks Whether it's time
I need another gun The littlest in the trap, and got it poppin' like some bubblegum Junkies hatin' on my stacks, sayin' I'm nuttin' but a young Buck
in his mothafuckin' ass Leave 'em all bloody, like a big pad Crunchy Blac, I don't ass crash I'm 'bout to walk up to your house Knock on the door and blow your brains out Then buck
beef shit is for the birds and the birds fly South Even Young Buck can vouch, when the doubts was out Who gave the West coast mouth-to-mouth? Hate it
drop to convert the top And let em bop on candy red Leather seats with that wood out They don't know what my hood 'bout Tryin to take the young Don's
try to make a living, I tell em' imma hustler and I'd rather make killin' My eyes is so wide as he watchin the skillet, I let my bitch bag it, if she
a living, I tell em' i'm a hustler, and I'd rather make a killing My eyes get so wide as it rise in the skillet, I let my bitch bag it, if she steal
make a living, I tell em imma hustler n id rather make a killin My eyes get so wide as it rise in the skillet, I let my bitch bag it, if she steal