much, When suddenly there's a knock on the door Well, now, who could that be? I say, "Who is it?" No answer "Who is it?" There's no answer "WHO IS
a special gift with a message And I don't want you to forget Where God has brought you from You has been singing ever since you was a little boy By listening
went in the smoke, rollin' real fast like a dog And began wid a rage and the guage can't let go They done labelled my nigga psychotic Bitches is got him
Y'all know what this is Can I get a little bit of L-O-V-E? Can you spend a little bit of dough on me? Can I get a little bit a ya T-I-M-E? Boy, if you
I'm with it/ I'll give anything for past sinnin' and take it back/ A hustlin' little nigga with cash, but now we grind a little bit harder, harder/ My
calm down you need meditation sending me a text wiith a hundred exclamations about how im wrong without any explanation at all, before you say another nigga next up i should call a
still a toy You still afraid so I'm still a boy (something for you haters) But as my soul this (something for you haters) Seen many-a solstices and plenty
Boy, listen to me careful now 'Cause this is something every man should know Oh this is a lesson about how You treat your girl right just let it show
is real But you're not a man You're just a toy Could you ever be a real, real boy And understand? But you're not a man If the past is the problem Our
boy birthday is coming, yeah And he want that PlayStation 2, yes he do What am I gonna tell him Gotta save 'cause the rent is due, the rent is due You say
niggas mad 'cause they riches ain't like my riches Ayyo I'm Murphy Lee the school boy a civilized jew boy I got my one two three four five a six horse
beat All I gotta say is, don?t fuck with me My game is tight, my bank is made You can hate big Short, but I still get paid You say, I can?t, I say you
the lust interupt something real, damn girl we grown so you gotta play your own position I wouldn?t say that you a hoe, just made a hoe decision eh, you
chatter Very well spoken, or real bad grammar I minority token, a brother in the slammer A free civilian with a house in Santa Ana If ya got a million
y'all down for real, gotcha It was 1996, 4th of July, looking off in the sky Dealing with thoughts inside, when something caught my eye It was a silhouette of a
, that was raised to cook Be on the couch chilling, shorts on, reading a book Biting on a pen, thin glasses on French type frames by Yves Saint Laurent Say
watch the man rip the wheels and a hes almost things are real and a hes the man u heard what I said he got a little glasses and a big forehead haha jazzy
No he'll never make love to you like I do So give it to me Cause I can show you 'bout a real love And I can promise anything that I do Is just to satisfy