a machine head better than the rest Green to red, machine head Got a machine head better than the rest Green to red machine head And I walk from my machine
support the death penalty and don't talk about war, when niggaz know that your pus a fucking hipocrit draft charger like George Bush don't push me nigga
CHANCE OF COMIN BACK FROM YOUR WHACK ASS KILLIN MACHINE SON OF A BUSH AINT THAT A SON OF A BUSH CATS DOIN BIDS FOR DOIN THE SAME BUSH SHIT THAT
When things were really sunny, strictly for the money The money.. yo money You might reinstate the draft and I'm gettin bummy So I clear my head by goin
(lynch): Now I'm the type of nigga that'll leave a horse head in ya bed Sleep with ya wife, then commence to knifin' Get away clean with the scheme glock
[MJG] Roach spraid on the block Then I took my throwback Now my soldiers posted up Hangin' like a coatrack Gun in the bushes and Work in the stash spot
a phantom-friend, yeag Stickin' sack an ol' Jack-Jack into its itchin-ten Oh! Don't ya linger! Ooh! Don't ya linger, now, Mah monster-piect...mah perfect-murder-machine
, that support the death penalty and don't talk about war, when niggaz know that your pus a fucking hipocrit draft charger like George Bush don't push
games War games Uh, yeah, uh, uh, uh What, Crooklyn Dodger Number 2 O.C., yeah back in the scene muthafucka Me and Premo, you know, East New York Bush
're leaving, leaving our machine this very evening They're programming your head So stop believing No need to complicate, it's all illusion Anyways, I feel the machine
sonny, you're drunk! So whatchu tryin to tell me officer? You tryin to tell me that that machine, tell me I'm drunk man? Somethin wrong with that machine That machine
I'm going to take a rope and put it over her shoulders And head for the river and practice on boulders And when she's real good I'm going to build a big
that thing Got a limited support from the Sing Sing regime I'm Hannibal Smith and they like the A-Team Keep my head on the swivel, when I serve a dope
chance Of comin' back From your whack ass killin' machine Son of a bush ain't that a son of a bush Cats doin' bids for doin' the same bush shit that
a phantom-friend, yeag stickin' sack an ol' Jack-Jack into its itchin-ten oh! don't ya linger! ooh! don't ya linger, now, mah monster-piect...mah perfect-murder-machine
In the gas station bathroom by the condom machine I heard the word of the Lord He said "Take off your shoes, this is holy ground too you know I came
[Verse 1] Dre rock the jewelry with the clear stones And get on a nigga head like some earphones I finna spit it, with a clear tone Get yo attention,
stepped out tha car and i'm ready for whatever Got my muthafuckin glock and i'm aiming at yo' sweater. When I hit you in yo head you gon drop just like