G enforced, your headboards And they could be rap wars So come one or two, 'cept for a few Doubles and couples and I'll grip 'em like tools 'Cuz boy
s word to my son little Jay, my little homey Ask niggaz how your boy get down, ain't nothing phony [Chorus] [Trife Da God] Yeah, they say two heads
my name, check the blood, sweat and tears For years, niggas know I bang I'm a made nigga caking what you call a boss On my own two, never taking orders
sense Killed in cold blood but the shit ain't done with Switch to Oak town, '66 See Huey Newton and Cleveland Seal Sons of Malcolm with intent to kill
s souls Cause the Objects that are Foreign, the kids with baggy clothes are the cats that I'm coolin with, when we be together Two and two equals four
kills you Do you know where your goin' too Just a memory so you better pack a pistol Everybody dying, death controls y'all Your nobody till somebody kills
the state I guess You better hide nigga truth is near An' you know just as well I do You ain't no killer, so kill that you wouldn't kill if you had to
on me I've been a bad boy for momma, don't you quit on me They built a jail so when we rise they can crush our dreams Two of the largest in the industry
know my name, check the blood, sweat & tears For years, niggas know I bang I'm a made nigga, caking what you call a boss On my own two, never taking orders
-enforced by the prison silence making profits they wanna us back in jail on arms violations and narcotic sales Its kill or be killed I polish the steal
Uh oh, uh oh Let's get it over with Yo sound boy turn the levels up Let's get it over with, uh Terror Squad up in this motherfucker Where my real niggaz
, Beat him up, while a nigger try to duk But when I line him up ill be fireing him up like two lines of dust im ganna be two glokes with it im cock aim
there's no more angels straight up KILLER! My apologies, it's not very God of me, to go crazy and try to teach the whole world 'Sickology' I was then split in two
fuckin money NIGGA To kill for cocaine and get a nigga killed And a banana peel will get his whole hide flipped He's bringin danger to the life of his home boy
you, I certainly will With my South Philly motherfuckers kill at will Bet the nine milli make you niggas, chilly chill I feel like a felon with two strikes
love Fresh out of jail, hard to kill, took two shots and lived It ain't my time, I asked the Lord, to put the reaper on hold I know my soul is kinda cold
as the real press. Yoko: yes, amazing. John: amazing. They're just as tough as the real press. Very sexy. It's a boy, it's a boy. Questioner: why are
M (capital M) Capital D-E-E's no doubt the chief rocker Don't like to get ill, but if I have to I kill So believe me boy, you gots to chill *echoes* *