on we gotta roll and wouldn't you know They ain't ready for the war Rob tha rich take some Give tha rest of tha poor Make them feel the pain, two double
til my last breath Momma even if dem kill me don't cry I'm a gangsta for life, I was prepared to die I'm a die rich, never die poor Mansions in the sky
-dick, billy-a-dick, tick, tack. When's that character comin' back? When's that kid in the g.i. lid Gonna choo-choo down the track? Poor ol' me, I'
-dick, Billy-a-dick, tick, tack When's that character comin' back? When's that kid in the G.I. lid Gonna choo-choo down the track? Poor ol' me, I'm beat
smoke I put 'em down them dope I'm real scope when I pass the block, I make traffic stop A prodigal wave thing that make the apple rot This apple jacks
Amid the heat and the wrack Hot boots invested and cracked Poor candidates jacked into gray light An ultra-violent call Summoning both poet and thrall
you have so much money you goin get scared 'cause I got it sevent- seventeen-year-old Jack Acksadapo was driving home to Belmore last night after finishing
alive I gotta eat so I do or die Not a full-time crook but I was born right So if I want to eat, sometimes I got to jack So jack I will and go get some
the inner city, up to bother trying not to get collared by the piggies) Ah yea [Verse 3] Jack the lad I put the work in For the wage of sin Even if by some poor
Come on, come on I see no changes, wake up in the morning and I ask myself Is life worth living, should I blast myself? I'm tired of bein' poor and even
of Hannibal, not compatible Why I would damage you, fuck, if I drink, then ran with you Ya'll chose to war, so called rich niggaz wanna verse the poor
Smoke trees of weed, take off the leaves out the twigs Pure truth is what I got to give A lot to live for, you ain't rich before poor It ain't peace
was his living and I had to take part So I grabbed a bag of goodies and I hopped up on his cart I laced the pockets of the poor and gave the hoodie a
I'm far away From home I'll be missing my block, D-Block nigga Lick shots for the hood Yeah nigga we good Lick shots for the poor We still gotta run
! Meanwhile his record sells double and triple Cause of you whinin bout him rubbin his nipple Religious? Shit, you helped them bands Instead of helpin them poor
big fat chicken faced assed Mama Don't even know about this drama, muthafucka Oh my god look at that, turn it up please Poor Nancy Kerrigan's sweet little
was the babies Tom and Joanne And babies need a few things I whittled a whistle for my brother Jack And though we disagreed now and then When I gave Jack