[Instrumental]
chest and you in piece wit the rest You can release to the press - this how G's ride From the North to the South to the East to the West, let's go [Chorus
thing it's gotta be, it's gotta be thug. [Fabolous] Niggas don't wanna play around, they see how calm I do things swarm in a blue range, armed with
at it, move ya eyes off my wall street chain They say we movin like an organized street gang All hues of blue, all shades of flame New west coast we
my gangsters pour the brew This is for the gangster, in me This is for the gangster, in you - all my gangsters red and blue [Verse Two] I'm worldwide
: (Strummer/Jones) STANDING IN THE BOG OF A WEST END BAR GUY ON THE RIGHT LEANING OVER TOO FAR MONEY IN MY POCKET GONNA PUT IT IN THE SLOT OPEN UP THE
fast end When I have just done my best I say: Alea jacta est I've made up my mind With my troops behind The eagles are shadowing the west! Doubt! After
time, like it or not, like what you got, You're under the soil, yes deep in the soil. So we'll end with a whistle and end with a bang and all of us fit
that oh, oh dirty tricks from the Mile End Road to the Matchstick Beacontree pulling strokes and taking liberties she liked it best when she went up west
blue With the loneliness of you mighty men With your mighty kiss that might never never end While, so far away, in the seat of the West Burns the fount
, crack game, cut it, cook it, chop it, record it Album shop it, its all the same thang Y'all look at these blue skies and think paradise I look at these blue
end, beautiful friend, This is the end, my only friend. The end of our elaborate plans, The end of everything that stands, The end, no safety no surprise, The end
: This is the end, beautiful friend, This is the end, my only friend. The end of our elaborate plans, The end of everything that stands, The end, no
stole change out her purse, now i wanna dig her up outta the earth, two more but lean forward, to war a new paragraph, blue carrots, D-class, strictly
dream it I can feel it slowly dripping away from me No more chances if you blow this, you bogus I will never ever let you live this down, down, down [Kanye West
: (feat. Mos Def, Freeway, The Harlem Boys Choir) [Kanye West] We in the streets playa, getcha mail It's only two places you'll end up - either dead
: Typed by: ruffryda088@hotmail.com [Kanye West] We in the streets playa, getcha mail It's only two places you'll end up - either dead or in jail Still