were I've got too many pockets on my shirt Wish I could get back to the way things were I've got too many pockets on my shirt Too many pockets on my
gotta pocket fulla songz (I gotta pocket fulla songz) I gotta pocket fulla songz (I gotta pocket fulla songz) I gotta pocket fulla songz (I gotta pocket
Yayo: Guns a place up Gimme dat pen and dat Jacob One false move you get spread out I?m in dat Range truck Timmy got me fuckin? blinged up Last year
phony logic No counting your homey pocket Spare no expense for legal defense If your homey locked up No keeping tabs On who was the last who looked out
Give the haters one last chance to see me cause this they last Turn me over one by one let them kiss my ass I see dead people I see dead people Pocket
it. Nigga I?m clocking let your G-shock clock it. Just got a Mazzi, took it to the shop, dropped it! Slide through the hood, three boss side pocket, With
The money wash up and I'm tryna dry it If a new car drops, then I'm tryna buy it Cam front, kinda tired Had a bitch last night, left her in the higher
and I'm high, I would be broke, if I could be with you, That is why it's for one night, (what? What what what what?) Verse 2: Red bandana in my back pocket
till morning Never stop until the cash came Really "Mister Make It" is my last name Life is like a poker, but I never played my last game You see me Now
Kid Ice, Brother Marquee and Mr. Mixx. They droppin' some new shit; and ain't about all that bullshit y'all been hearin' for the last two or three years
at Harlem to the shot callers in O' And though, Congress, don't want us to progress our step My homie buried at an early age hustled to death His last
the world, nigga Can't nobody feel your pain The world's changin everyday, times moving faaast My girl said I need a raise, how long will she last?
streetz Rest in peace young nigga, there's a Heaven for a 'G' be a lie, If I told ya that I never thought of death my niggas, we tha last ones left
fun I never had a crumb. Daddy worked two jobs and Mama won't stop drinkin' rum. I tried to cope loc but my family's broke And my pocket's short so
you get your ass beat Now Nik my bottom bitch, she always come up with my bread The last nigga she was with put stitches in her head Get your hoe out of pocket
: I want you to hear me out there This is for all you bad boys This a story of the satan rock 'n' roll I want you to put your hand in your pocket Take
: (verse 1) mi neva have much money inna mi pocket and mi neva finish school but you no need to feel compassionate of mi don't teach I am a fool cause
like I never Oh, I love you like I never loved before (Martina McBride) Boy you got me burning like a rocket You stole my heart and stuck it in your pocket