![]() Tribune, nozzles with silent doom We in that A-Town Journal as violent goons You should print my information (Yeah), quote my rhymes And keep me in between these New York and L.A. Luda, Jada and Nas And our bullets give you a deep-tissue massage (Ah) So hear a song and dance while I make these ends You never stood half a chance like Siamese Twins (Ah) They shooting! Look in the barrel! (Woo) Then he made the front page of the Miami Herald Or Chi. I'm from the school of hard knocks, sneak peeks and low blows Where Xs mark spots and kitchens mark Os (Woo) Where love's gon' getcha and hate is gon' snitch ya And fingers squeeze triggers like boa constrictors It's the, Mr. Yo, ain't nothing but trouble, God, when I kick in the door With D-Block, Bravehearts and the Double-R Don't make me let the machine off This is methadon' music that you can lean off "Made You Look," the remix, with me up on it I copped your shit now, I break weed up on it, and Everything is real I see Like my niggas that been home, but they only got a jail ID I helped the game, it ain't help me I'm top five, dead or alive, and that's just off one LP, and I still buzz, they feel cuz 'Cause they know the flow's ill just like Will was I'm just tryna make sure that my sons wealthy Out of shape, but I make sure that my guns healthy I'm a ape, you can't stand 'Kiss, coming through the hood In a Aston Vanquish, the color of dandruff They said we jumped him, I just let the gun snuff him Cop P the turbo soon as they uncuff him This goes out to all of your mans Why put you in the verse when I can put you in a coroner van ? D-Block! They shooting! Ah, made you look You a slave to a page in my rhyme book Getting big money, playboy your time's up Where them gangsters? Where them dimes at? They shooting! Ah, made you look You a slave to a page in my rhyme book ( Yeah, woo!) Getting big money, playboy your time's up ( We just getting started! Oh!) Where them gangsters? Where them dimes at? ( Luda! Let's go!)
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