, we need to make an incision This is no little cut, this is a big decision When you feel like you know that your life It's a big no Well this is worse
scalpel, we need to make an incision This is no little cut, this is a big decision When you feel like you know that your life It's a big no Well this is
the motherfuckin thugs at? Throw your motherfuckin middle finger We gonna do this shit like this I thank the Lord for my many blessings, never stressin
' fuckin' around Youse a little, bitch Youse a bitch ass nigga, smack your fuckin' skullies off You niggaz ain't learned a fuckin' lesson yet? Count your blessing
the motherfuckin thugs at? Throw your motherfuckin middle finger We gonna do this shit like this I thank the lord for my many blessings, never stressin
I hope im never that poor nigga seein blood, runnin Cant bleed cuz the shots took away half your tummy On your knees beggin Lord please not now Knock on wood, count your blessings
, you better count your blessings When you got C.L. now you got bad boy, your connections In return, while we live and we learn then you know what it is
shelter you horny little pale raccoon wearing three chains And I'll give you some more stupid sayings to put in your keychains (chorus with variations 2x) [drums cut
get your fill Your time is running out You're getting carried away because no one cares about your fame I see the dagger in your name Deny your roots
verse' thunderclap In a city of garbage, tryin' to reap the harvest Adaption is the trap in which the artist meets the forest Swing your little axe
O, M O P is what's up We in the cut, Brownsville is heatin' it up, come on Yo, your ego, why still spit lines, that your bitch? Play C low and spit
got the Pac white tees But they love a little me they love a little me, they love little me I'm on the Westside of town A tiny little spot where it
the fat stacks Take it to the next century, and can't find your way back Bottom line is music is my number one And nothing made of paper can cut through
where the motherfuckin thugs at? Throw your motherfuckin middle finger We gonna do this shit like this I thank the Lord for my many blessings, never stressin
P is what's up We in the cut, Brownsville is heatin' it up (COME ON) [Lil' Fame] Yo your ego, why still spit lines that your bitch Play C low, and spit
think about that when you got the fat stacks And can't find your way back Bottom line is music is my number one And nothing made of paper can cut through
the place where the cook spits This is where I was when the bomb dropped Hiding from the uninvited onslaught I've seen people who don't believe in sleep count