, Challenge my faith, So I stand upright as proof to their history. Here come the judge, " You must plead guilty or not guilty " The sounds of time will
integrity, Challenge my faith, So I stand upright as proof to their history. Here come the judge, " You must plead guilty or not guilty " The sounds of time
You can make our pressure does unwind Sometime Sometime It's for your spirit and your mind Sometime That's how we drop it on the up on the line One time
know how style through with them crowds and now I got to kick it breakin' new ground wantin' my people to gather around Remember the sound of the rounds
homeboy first 'Cause if they put him under pressure, he's bound to burst Into a long conversation 'bout everything you did No more tusslin', time to
t go on, it's time to drop a few bombs Get busy, G, go on and take 'em to school Yeah, it's time spread the jewels I ask you about Malcolm and you tell
the way from the 2-1-5th to Bucktown Brace yourself, it's about to go down Runnin one on one and only hip-hop bound Yo Tariq (whassup) how your micraphone sound (It sound
silly tryna lamp here, better bring your fury Heat, I got a drop, Dampier, niggas try me barely No one breathes, I need a ant's ear, pressure's necessary
front, then I drop the Chucky Booker on her Why you wanna play your games on me, bitch, you crazy? Commitments, I'm Swayze, no time for the ill shit
at the same time Split the pie with the homie, ball at the same time Any nigga splippin', fall at the same time We all links in the chain, tryin to gain, do time
Uh oh, uh oh Let's get it over with Yo sound boy turn the levels up Let's get it over with, uh Terror Squad up in this motherfucker Where my real niggaz
waste your time So baby ima start with this lloyd I, I love the colorful clothes you wear And the way the sunlight plays upon your hair I hear the sound
the music (Love, I need realness in my life) Aiyyo these niggaz In the game don't sound the same Bust, these niggaz In the game don't sound the same
Blackout, heatwave, .44 caliber homicide The buns drop dead and dogs go mad In packs on the West Side Young girl standing on a ledge looks like another
cards, that's an old lie Lucky in love, that's how life ends Well, the turncoats turned around When they heard the sound of the bell Dropped their coins
work and you work until you drop You're in over your head and the pressure just don't stop so you push and you push and you push until you drop oh
you drop I'm the taker, you're the maker Like a T-1-K I'm the new terminator They came down to belong to the sound Keep the S. L. spin, spinning '
feel like I'm about to burn any second Losin' the feelin' like life is depressin' Generations are burnin' and people ain't the same no more For real 'cause he drops, she drops
