Still no drugs, guns, knives or lives lost.
Should come with me to get your salad tossed
And don’t offer least of shit to these people’s opinions
Fuck rappin' about smokin' drugs, they hurtin' your lungs, tons, of guns.
Washington, d.c to los angeles, ca
We the motherfucking best, word to my mama
Dreams of giant mansions, diamonds chains, 8 or 9 cars,
Rather than buy our songs, they busy cheering the stars
But there's a devil in the ghetto tryin to tear it apart
Money, pussy, power, respect that's the shit that i want
I get it poppin like pacman, ask polo
The money, cars, and clothes, the riches and dough,
Pocket with a cash full of bashful weapons
Never was a thug just infatuated with guns
Strange fruit grew from wicked roots, you'd fiend for money trees
She don't suck nothing, buzzen, but she lick it nice
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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