, ?Joey, I don't wanna die? I pray to God that He show us a sign Now it's fourteen years later and you still alive, "Thank You, God" (Maria) God, I thank
John Blazin', Don up in the line up J-J-J-John Blaze Ja-Ja-ah-John Bla-Blaze J-Ja-J-Ja, John Blaze Johnny Blaze, ain't a damn thing changed It's simple
Huh blaze the streets with no warning Andale andale my people move for the montary Jack cheese collapse streets now put the john away Put the john away, put the john
of soft. Everybody know it all, Nobody follow a protocal, The money's only good until you blow it all. Stacking every cents, Guliani knocked John Gotti
me, ain't nuttin' like some hood shit Gotta love my dogs but ain't nuttin' like a good bitch Strictly, if I'm goin' down, she comin' wit me Whole time screamin', oh my God
ways Where I can be myself, yeah live another day, oh Take me back to my Southern ways Where the tall pines blow And the St John's flows and only God
should've known not to shoot John Lennon I should've never gotten AOL I should remember not to blow up buildings I should remember what it's like to be God
nerve to even try and share the turd On John J, flap a nigga gate with the wordplay Hot Nik shoot you with the gift, it's your birthday God hatin' ugly
to keys Aah Cartagena, breaks hearts in Argentine My misses slugs to love me, my wife act like Anita Terror Squad'll die for the cause Even if it means blowing
New York, I cover the sport, like Marv Albert One, two, when I exhale, the one-two Lock it down, similar to Denzel in John Q. Fire the semi, with
magic from a chalice, detached from the distractions At last, I can relax, looking past all of the action A fraction or a fragment of me actually is present The rest
niggaz know I go hard to the fullest, get involved And I got em' playin' dodge ball wit bullets Yeah, I got the sawed off, fully in the Sean John hoodie
shit on you Girl you know I'll shit on you Bitch or man I'll shit on you I will shit (Swift aka Swifty McVeigh) I remain fatter than gluttony Tapin bombs to the back of record companies Blow
I will shit I'll shit on you, girl, you know I'll shit on you, bitch or man I'll shit on you, I will shit I remain fatter than gluttony Tapin' bombs to the back of record companies Blow
I was doomed to transport these seven long years When six of them they were up and past I was coming home to make up the last When the winds did blow
a look on the little musgrave As bright as the summer sun And then bethought this little musgrave This lady's love I've won Good day good day you handsome youth God
doopa stupid, get drugs and I fall back Ain't a problem that the God can't handle I set it off First Blood, Sean John Rambo Who? As you can see, I'm
eighty-four Regal and I'm grinding Detroit, know my name In Detroit, it's cocaine In Detroit, don't play no hoe games they'll blow out your brains (