brains lookin like hamburger meat i'm gettin' ghost like casper but I'm not that friendly nigga I'm that Lunasicc bastard i'm hazardous to my own health
money I started flat broke, now I'm poppin' rubber bands I know I'm the shit, I done ate a ton of spam If the club poppin', Ima burn a hundred grams
, uh Uh, I'm not flaggin', but I'm just saggin' I betcha don't wanna see the D O double G and you can't see The D R to the E or my motherfuckin' homey
' long as I'm here Pitbull back at ya neck I'm hearin' them cheer E V E is what they need in they life I'm bout mine Now I'm done with you fuck out my
I want a coooooool rider, A cool, cool, cool, cool rider. I want a C-O-O-L R-I-D-E-R. I need a C-O-O-L R-I-D-E-R. (Repeat)
of you niggaz faking and fronting Slim Thug and E.S.G. and Lil' Ke, we pay for hunting It's a hell of a ride, hell of a role, hell of a stroll We ship
NO MERCY NO MERCY Channel all that anger D E M A N D D E M A N D D E M A N D A B R I G H T E R DAY PIERCE'em PIERCE'em PIERCE'em
D M 2 C 74 Little Nasi and the crew, y'all niggas come home Word up, the new album gon' be the shit baby Aint no doubt about it, E Pluribus Unum
she was so bout it I'm S-P Mexy, girls think I'm sexy Back in junior high I use to dress a little preppy Now I'm in the benzo, with my boy Jo-Jo With
's up Whodi?) Come and see about me Who's that? The burnin' man, the burnin' man? Yeah, came here to burn some ass You don't see the burnin' man You
a fuckin' player I'm keepin' all of you muthafuckas in my fuckin' prayers Everywhere that I go I'm gettin' all these evil stares I'm sick of all of these
people In the hood, I'm known for peelin caps, so I'm a cap peela The police know me for sellin drugs, so I'm a drug deala I reverse the game cause ain
Yo, I'm rap's dirty little secret that they try to keep quiet Till you dropped off your label and your A&R fired But real niggas like "That's Chino, fuck around, he gonna burn
Produced by Yngwie J. Malmsteen. All songs published by Pazuzu Enterprices Ltd. (PRS) adm. by Unichapell Music. Inc., BMI. Retyped by S O L A M Y L W A R E . Stepan Skrob. e
fuck playin' fair! Y'all niggas like loose-leaf paper, easy to tear Drag just burn that up and get it outta here Y'all think y'all goin' from heaven to hell
points for the snitches So, would you just walk on by 'cuz I'm too hard to lift And no this ain't Aerosmith, it's the motherfuckin' D R E From the CPT
was they mad about? ...Yo kid Kid?!! I'm old enough to be your uncle, heh Anyway, where the BUD at? Sorry we do not drink! What the hell you talkin bout
' snare when it touch the beat I'm the 808 drum that got you movin' your feet I'm the heir to the throne after the D R E Product of my environment You