Vuelve a salir el sol y todo sigue igual Suena el despertador todo parece normal Preparo mi cafe, me piro a trabajar Escucho mi cancion, solo es
' dirty, I'll take thirty of you motherfuckers I'm throwing cheap shots, low blows and sucker punches I'm not for the games, I'm not in the mood Not to
like I just took the chip Nigga took the stand when he coulda took the 5th Yeah, eat a dick wit AIDS on the tip Keep my name off ya lips, not guilty
strictly underground when I'm troopin with my sound So save the temptation, money keep the limos Cause that's not hip-hop, that's a fashion show "How
's live with hexes, this is why I hang Myself with jealousy upon a fencepost half mast Fashion, war between the guilty and the guilty And the guilty and the teen Not
you've got to tell them: [Wesley Snipes - from "New Jack City"] I'm not guilty. YOU'RE the one that's guilty. The lawmakers, the politicians, the Columbian
don't get no satisfaction Living like a slave to fashion No more thinking for yourself Just get it off a shelf Oh oh, why be perfect No oh, it's not
kid of his chance to live 'cause of the block he lives in Not giving a fuck just trying to win your block ribbon Glock driven joining street platoons like it's some fashion
On a Saturday night, all the girls run free Singing, "Bury me not on the lone Prairie" But where do you go when you finish broken-hearted? Back to the
We are guilty, we are beyond hope We beg to differ, we are a terminal case Press darlings, press darlings, press darlings Press darlings, press darlings
Do not enter, conservative type Sweaty bodies, bodily harm Abuse thy neighbor, that's the charm Bloodshed on everyone Don't mistake, violence for fun Blood, guilty fashion
to me When you're rocking and you're clocking With a girl named D Turn it up, the nasty beat Get into it, move your feet It's the fashion with attraction
motherfuckers I'm throwing cheapshots, low-blows and suckerpunches I'm not for the games, I'm not in the mood Not to be confused with dudes that fumble
strictly underground when I'm troopin with my sound So save the temptation, money keep the limos Cause that's not hip-hop, that's a fashion show "
been wallowing, tried to tell us Give peace a chance, met the national guard and you shit in your pants It's not your imagination, it's not a bad trippie
I am the kiss of death Fe-Fi-Fo-Fum I smell the blood of an Englishman I wanna love ya' in the ultimate fashion I'm only guilty of a crime of passion
a bitch and then you die Life's a bitch and then you die Life's a bitch and then you die It's not often young niggas get a chance To enjoy riches in legitimate fashion
