Texty:
Guns For Glory

Is wearing thin, and the angel has begun, to fold her wings, cause she's heading for the sun, the chains around my heart they are of memories before,

face, cause sanity has lost its case, but you buried, you buried your hate, and bottled the pressure inside, and your biggest, my biggest mistake is knowing that you are alive, so much for

feel no sympathy. It's tight ill, plus I get slight chills when I write wills. Tired of looking at these ugly niggaz with ice grills. No telling what I might feel about my glory

For ever struggle, every strip and every ghetto For every nigga toned in the pain and heavy metal For every child that's born and every nigga gone And for

'll survive it, but they won't be alive to tell that Thug story livin' in the city is really no nuts, no glory No nuts, no glory Thug stories, you wanna

you rule the world every girl would want to be with you First, ya get the money, then you get the power Big Pun's the same son bustin' my guns for the

how I ride, creed on simple Kill 'em all let God separate good from evil You fagots do it for glory Y'all's just do it for my people I'm grand national

dilemma when the people support the death penalty but call abortion murder for sport For the fake patri-OT, ain't no questions asked 'Specially, when the babies kill each other for

paper and flow to fast cars in the presence of my enemies Niggas waitin for me to break Shit, aint nothin foldin but my money We them niggas wit big guns