Tradução: 13 Caras. Nada Es Igual.
Me, you can't stop me Cause I'm nothing like you You're just a minor obsruction of fear and dismay I'm stuck in this prison that you call a home You
on Move back I need dougie space like ay, ay Then it's right back to my muggin' face Niggas said put the weed out BBM, you buggin face We walked in, want
of bein all peaceful the partially thugs be spreadin like cancer Frontin like gangsters until you bust their head and they lookin like dancers While they leanin and the rockin with after You
Love of money's like crack both of em will leave you dead When you die and face God ain't nothing left to be said Instead of Chasing the truth you take
a fuck about what you're doing I could give a fuck about what, who that you flew Make you sick like the flu, I know how to spook you All it takes is
face Makin sure your dead Headed to my motherfuckn ride Dichin evidence Mask on, lotces on Headed to my residence Consequences They accur when you talkin smack Thinkin you the big man But you
a weapon, walk like a corpse, In the face of transgression, military issue Kalish- -Nakova or machete or a pitchfork, He killing cause he feel he got nothing
I'm just bein' real, you know I'm like the sun, I'm tryin' to shine on everybody You know what I'm sayin' But it's like situation after situation, you
it all comes back to you. Either way ? anyway ? up and down - everyday Nothing new ? nothing changed ? you can?t handle nothing strange Who you gonna sue ? who you gonna undue When you
Are you a fighter? Real life scuffle, no dirt clean Plus a muthafucka had to hustle since 13 I got my mind in focus, where you never been at How you
face And they just my song on Move back I need dougie space like ay, ay Then its right back to my muggin' face Niggas said put the weed out BBM, you buggin face
loss Kid holding a weapon, walk like a corpse In the face of transgression, military issue Kalash- -Nikova or machete or a pitchfork He killing cause he feel he got nothing
you're gonna flatter me Bitch I could give a fuck about what you're doing I could give a fuck about what, who that you flew Make you sick like the flu
the face of past enemies Eat your heart out son, you never was a friend to me Hey Joey, let's just get this money Brothas just be wilin' Hey Joey, you
, I sharpen my blade I'm frontin' to this perv like I'm only in the 7th grade The doorbell rings I gotta get 'em inside In my best little girl voice I'm like
me all about the way you feel Speak to me, speak to me Tell me all the things I want to know Tell me all the places that you go Tell me all the nothings
