see the brake lights Hit the back door, I lay down cross the floor E's on the wheels, he makes the rubber squeal Blood's on my gear from caps I've peeled
yeaaaah, okay It's Pete Rock, Kanye, One, two, okay It's Pete Rock, Kanye, One, two, okay It's Pete Rock, Kanye, One, two, okay It's Pete Rock, Kanye
it's not for baby Got so much money, I can look at the cops all crazy Rock star shit for my rock star ass Got a tub full of money that's a rock star bath
and friends they signing in My niece singing solo organs and violins (Yeah) Wife in her black veil hands flooded with diamonds Remaining calm under each arms my children Daddy's
every engineer on every train All of the children and all of their names And every handout in every town And every lock that ain't locked when no one's
's the misery of inequity Said it's the history of inequity When it all, all falls down Telling you all, it all falls down Children eat your bread Little children
then And that's the way it could have been Oh, that's the way it should have been If I had met you way back then That's the way it would have been That's
might be my last chance" She's gone country, look at them boots She's gone country, back to her roots She's gone country, a new kind of suit She's gone
top I make da nina sing like "shoot a du dee wap" You want the facts daddy? well I truly do need pop And I get my candy from your girlfriend's sweet
know every engineer on every train All of their children and all of their names Every handout in every town And every lock that ain't locked when no one's
way? The same old girl who never gave me no rhythm But this time standin' in the middle of five children She done got fat, and now she's lookin' like
hell I come home from 'Nam worked my way to scarfer A job that'd suit the devil as well Taconite coke and limestone Fed my children and make my pay
, yeah, look up [VERSE 1] Hollow a mountain out Build a villa in it, pimp that's what I'm talkin bout Uh, Closed minded lil children, I write my way
These hoes'll fuck yo friend Break bad, make up, then do it again These hoes ain't got no feelin's Hoes prayin' for chillin's (children) By a young
The son of man's a song of a gun with hella ammo The sheriff shootin Bob Marley, John J. Rambo 6 sextillion, 19 million, the holy pyramid say we all a lost children
brings me tears It's not about a salery it's all about reality, And Hip Hop is the reality that creates all these saleries. HIP HOP, HIP HOP, HIP HOP It's
s a motherfucker! This is where we take a journey, called karma What goes around, comes back around Especially the rules of these streets It's a bloody
?s wearing an orange jumpsuit And holding a picket sign She?s ashamed of her birthplace But retreat is not an option Women and children, frontline, logon