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Lord forgive me
Kill him where he stand and stand over him, shake his hand
Then jump back in that mini van, double back to his block and blam I ain't backing down for nothing
I'ma back em down like Shaq with this black 2-2-3 in my hand
Better pray that this chopper jam like a radio single, man
Police radio signals sayin' that a 187 land on your corner
Coroners comfort your mama
"Mama he's dead," the next morning I toasted up with my homies
We drink and smoke marijuana, want us to change our ways? Uh-huh
You see this game we play come from uncles that raised me in Compton
Ask me what I have accomplished I don't know I don't have conscience
I just load up and start dumpin' on enemies; I'm head hunting
No sympathy, ain't no love when you in these streets just get something
Protect ya neck cuz they comin' for sets, respect, split your onion
Then chop your deck your head tumblin' like gymnastics
Cause ignorance is bliss (en) |
