blood That kerosene fuels the evil flame Where they've forgotten your name And you'll never last And you'll die very young When you burn too fast And
cash blast and mash the gas, droppin like my ashes get past this, ho style wicked nigga with fashion you see my pashion, is rippin the microphones and
it was ?Awesome Car!? I called in car cavalry cooked in an 85 Dodge Aries, gas for Huntington and back barely. Equipped with super soakers full of piss and
get, and how they handle they biz How they connect with Jamaician niggas who speak American And how they chains swung a medallion iced out pelicans And how they stay wit four pounders And
pass me a six shot And I'm get turned black and work like a seventeen shot Glock B.G. a raising star, pass me the guard I'm 'bout that war, and these
contact me, and get wit me And still end up bein mad 'cause I charge 50 And as for you suckaz, you can keep those rapz And screw yo awardz, my son
the dash My Z look pretty when it's fast I bet 50 I'ma juice the city before I pass And if you wanna catch fire better step on the gas The opposite
in the limelight, an indentured slave I blame myself. God! Help me pour this gas on me! I need to drown in flames to be free! Help me pour this gas
a glass I was connected to machines for thousands of tests, what a gas Now I'm still lying in my hospital bed, feeling the pain And my little flame
violently that the blood dripping from our chin is a symphony And I'm a mile away, from never turning around and living my life, rolling on gas fumes And
the mad streets and merkin Shot at strangers from out the Ranges and Suburbans Curtains for anybody perpin Leave in a hearse for certain Blood on the curb and
10 and started flaming, they did the same and Slugs spraying and blood raining, I left about seven thugs laying But this one cat was gaining, he grab the dame and
They need gas, cockin' heat back, be out like Freejack The heat's on, you think one-eight, and Johnny's blamed Who that nigga, burn biscuit and spit flame
the evening air I was blessed by a blood-red moon In Lincoln Park the dark was turning I spied a fair young maiden and a flame was in her eyes And on
1291 to keep their bodies warm I'm talking walkin' belts and neckties and boots for rodeo They don't run too fast, don't waste much gas, I'm makin' lots
small mammal, and then screeching along the guard Rail, scraping paint and throwing sparks like sheets of pure terror for 400 Yards Over and over With one final back and
blood of screams that shattered the violent complete this paradise were savage -- heard and not seen me Blown into fists of brer and jostled every first and