, shed your skin Four walls a single space Mouth to mouth, hand to face Let me in your hiding place Find yourself alone, you're so tiny in a big box
in, shed your skin Four walls a single space Mouth to mouth, hand to face Let me in your hiding place Find yourself alone, you're so tiny in a big box
nuff ghetto youths Dat got no place to go Live night and day roaming In the ghetto Most ghetto youths Aint' got a place of their own Give dem some place
figures, is break niggaz Me and Musolini set to ride we high Big Bogart got the alibi if homicide ask us way Labelled a Capo in the mob as big as the
Can't find his way out of this maze? You gotta be a real dickbuffer To wind up here in the first place Right you are Jimbo Let's watch the big dick fuck
grade promotion Chronich campaign Watch Mr. Riley wid di herb champaigne Food fi once brain that's what this contain (contain) Police a come mi nah go hide
sicc state of mind as I premedi-tiz-ate Fifty-one-fifty as my brain liquifies Every swig a nigga takes crazy thoughts intensifies I'm ready to ride, I'm Mr
paid by the movement of the cut I've been summoned by the cancer, to testify and bless It's that, big mack, like scripture is a phat Kodeje? So hide your
in eighty-six I was lethal Rockin for the grassroots and up keep the people The movement of the bowel from that lay shit of the vowel Mad share yeah, from mr
care about Mr. Outsider, it's all about bein' a fighter Use the guide to open up your mind a little wider My mellow my ace, movin' from place to place
keep standing So grab your glocks I keep standing So fuck the cops I keep standing Always ready to ride Flipping and slipping riming in my ride never will I hide
Can't find his way out of this maze? You gotta be a real dickbuffer To wind up here in the first place Right you are Jimbo Let's watch the big dick
the big mirror Your reflection is so clear Devil's head, rotting flesh With the snakes inside your chest In the mirror you can't hide You've been granted
hatin so I don't call her I'ma go see my ninja level flow Callin storm, shadow, letcha know, we slicin atcha dome Mr. Bones, Madrox, who you trippin
'm a underground rap letterin I'm like get-get-get-get,get off my dick I'm the wrong kid you don't wanna fuck with Call me Big Dog, Mr. Crustified Dibbs
m running from the firm in the novel by Grisham. Or Tommyknockers, by Mr. King, on the run and this ain't no dream. REPEAT CHORUS MNP: Hiding out
see six figures, is break niggaz Me and Mussolini set to ride we high Big Bogart got the alibi if homicide ask us way Labeled a Capo in the mob as big
