By a gang called the police
Lights please, lights please
Stare a more sawed off strap bear a chore called from mad
Sick of hard times so i tell em to fall back
My rebellious ways got a phone thrown at my face/ called the
I make music for a reason, didn't vote obama
Seldomly blasting i would stomp him without asking
I got an epidemic in ma blood called a rapping
Loser fat weirdo freak i've been called a disgrace
Cause all you got now is too much room space, shoe space
Apb called for killin two pigs in the field, hittin a double
Cause every girl i deal and fuck, it's always against her will
'fore you love you a nigga, try loving your kids
A tribe called quest in the days of reaganomics,
But did you really mean it when you called me a whore
Something in his arm, he pushing more and more
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
You looking for tools to write and share lyrics online?
You're in luck! Get started using RapPad >