When this song come on in the club) (Ya better get out the way) (Stacks on deck) (S.O.D. money gang entertainment) (Soulja boy soulja boy soulja boy tell
Oh you disrespectin the House of God with that thing on It don't even look real; aww, it's testimony time Oh who is that? Young Chris Bridges Boy I'm
hoe (ass hoe) And where my thug niggas at (there they go, there they go) [Lil' Zane] You see we real niggas (real niggas) And confrontation make us kill niggas (kill
my publishin ain't shit for free I get that big bread, I'm making big chips You get killed at the beginnin' I get them big strips I got my converse
[Intro: conversation] [Chiddy:] Yo what up. [Xaphoon:] Doin' good, how you doin'? [Chiddy:] Chillin' man, chillin', sleepin all day. [Xaphoon:] [laughs
up inside the 23rd century, Given the best of "B" Evidently this is real Put it On Baby Feel, lets do this Studio grimy !!Quick!! for i get killed
Like a rule boy, I play with the tool boy, And I hear when you die ya body get cool boy I rather win da war insteada makin da news boy I been hustlin
came to get him The feeling was the worst feeling that she could possibly be feeling Stood up and then I yelled out, "Why in the hell did you kill him?" I didn't kill
see my motherfuckin' driver, he's a white boy As I bail down the street with my khakis creased Everybody looking at me look like the police Havin' conversations
spreading? I've been answering machines All night Now the doctors dancing in While the ambulances sing Another boy Without a sharper knife The moment that's where I kill the conversation
catch up like mayonnaise, um. I'm the sickest nigga doin it, Bet that baby. These other niggaz dope, I'm wet crack baby, yes. Get back get back boy it
a heat under the seat It ain't like I ain't never seen a gun before It ain't even like I never had to run before But you don't really wanna kill me You
People in the house, Sermon, aight As we proceed, holla at ya boy People in the house, scream at me, aight Love is, yeah, music that you feel good Neighborhood
you think that's pretty clever, don't you, boy? Flying on your motorcycle Watching all the ground beneath you drop You'd kill yourself for recognition You'd kill
would figure it would be a rap nigga I have to kill My potnaz telling me Shawty you have to chill but I'ma end up hating With steel, what is his, still dope boy
sleep through the morning and put on a slam But mi woman she ah pressure me fuh go confession So mi decide fi go and kill the conversation So mi sit
because eight years changes your whole mentality and can i ask how many times was it your subconcious mind that made the decision that resulted in the unwanted confrontations the parking violations and the boy
week I bet you think that's pretty clever don't you boy? Flying on your motorcycle, Watching all the ground beneath you drop You'd kill yourself for recognition, Kill