songs written by the soul but the gangs in the suburbs among the staves screwed by the swing of blues keep on shouting don?t turn your back of history
s Money's what you can count on when your friends ain't Grass green over here Green like the kushes I got presidents in my jeans like the Bushes We don't
Don't let Makavelli fool you homey thuggin it costs Pour out a little liquor for the loved ones that we lost You ain't gotta wait for the album I don't
jacked Got shot, came back, jumped on Dre's back Payback, homey I'm bringin C.A. back And I don't do button up shirts or drive Maybachs All you old record
gets weird you know the weird turn pro Your street time is limited 'cuz this band rocks it take your whole crew put 'em all in your pocket if your feelin
pro, you should wife her; Hoes follow me, like I'm the fuckin' Pied Piper Sheena, I don't like her! - Titi, I don't want her. Rhonda, I like her, every
, you shouldn't, even try To fuck with M-J should I pimp this for excersize Woman, I don't want your pussy, now rest your thighs No testin' eyes, stays
you turn the world upside down Don't pretend if you love To be a mad-man on the run I'm gonna suck -- I'm gonna rock till I die Why don't you join me
went fast as the Vice Had rushed in, bussin', could you imagine this life? The streets come alive and laugh at your sorrows Leavin' your soul hollow That you fill it back
move your tongue Cause I got niggas that's ready to jump off in your ass And smash and crash Protect my niggas for combat Leathaface at ya and on your
(Ohhhhh!) was always around And if there comes a time to pick or choose (pick or choose) My Mo Thugs won't never lose (Don't ya know your gonna lose
test my hood, It'll be your loss, even if you bring your clik, Get tossed and it'd do you no good, Can't fuck wid my gang no thang, And the bullets they
twelve gauge thug You don't want fuck with, no buck with, Rip's breakin' 'em bustas Blood, me fillin' 'em ? me murder. I show no mercy Turn your back, clack back