Texty:
G T

it eyes No, you ain't, man No, you ain't come A brother think you've got back up But you really don't You know why I wouldn't even hit you with my fist

Let me tell ya a little story 'bout my homeboy Ed Use to drink every day, straight 40's to the head You try to snap on him, he'd ask what you said You

strangle I eat Guardian Angels And toy emcees With their names on the front page I bury in shallow graves I don't rap to girls on my L.P. I don't beg

Yo nigga your moma got two feet growin' out of titties Bitch fell down and kept runnin' Off to the studio late night It's time to cut another track It

" Nose in the air,turnin' you down But you don't,you keep frontin' When all that's really on your mind is what? Kickin' conversation,ain't talkin' 'bout nothin' "Yo baby L.G

Left on Florence, gettin' through the E.T.G.'s Spun out on Vermont, made a left on Colden Right on Hoover, E where we goin'? He didn't even answer that

O.G. original gangster O.G. original gangster O.G. original gangster O.G. original gangster O.G. original gangster O.G. original gangster O.G. original gangster O.G

my rhymes with blood upon a butcher knife You say, "The Ice is ill", an' ill I am They try to ban my shit and I don't give a damn Roll up, your eye will

Damn right, I'm a nigga and I don't care what you are 'Cause I'm a capital N-I-double-G-E-R Black people might get mad 'cause they don't see That they