Where you going? Do you even care? Driven to distraction Drives you to despair You just spin your wheels That your confidence conceals I recognize the
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Where you going? Do you even care? Driven to distraction Drives you to despair You just spin your wheels I recognize the panic That your confidence conceals
I leave you wet Bloody, sticky, holes in your dickey's Oh what a pity, lookin' all shitty My Winchester will get the best of ya Hand grenades will fade all
Look at this nigga, stuntin' in front of Justin's, actin' silly If it wasn't cops all over, I'd smack him with this milli You hoe, niggaz, move a brick
it i was feelin bionic,lookin at me rollin a blunt and im huffin and puffin and i cant get enough of this stuff, and im loosin my logic, you can smell all
in clubs Been in the hands of mad thugs They feed me when they load me with mad slugs Seventeen precisely, one in my head They call me Desert Eagle, semi auto
that I doubt, smack 'em in the mouth Throw 'em in the yoke, then I knock 'em out No doubt, Freddie Foxxx files twenty shot auto glock Benny blind Puerto
the E, try harder, don't bother Prince Poetry, the man not a myth I'm not the type that you can walk up and eff with Don't sleep, just peep the whole damn concept I'm out to wreck
ladies and gentlemen Y'all siga siga sing it Y'all siga siga sing it Y'all siga siga sing it Y'all siga siga sing it Y'all siga siga sing it Y'all siga
it, walk all over your streets A lot of herbs don't like Celph, and say he's not underground But I'm a blow soon, so y'all can jus hate on me now I represent
I leave you wet Bloody, sticky, holes in your Dickey's Oh what a pity, lookin all shitty My Winchester will get the best of ya Hand grenades will fade all
don't bother Prince Poetry, the man, not a myth I'm not the type that you can walk up and EFF with Don't sleep, just peep the whole damn connnnn-cept I'M OUT TO WRECK
the lights All the lights have died Slow dose of hell stripping what's left Sleepless for days on end And ingest life on all side I can't be reached
sneak me in clubs Been in the hands of mad thugs They feed me when they load me with mad slugs Seventeen precisely, one in my head They call me Desert Eagle, semi-auto
[Shyne] Look at this nigga, stuntin in front of Justin's, actin silly If it wasn't cops all over, I'd smack him with this milli You hoe niggaz move a
Welcome, welcome, I'd like to welcome you all to Webster's Laboratory I'll be your host for the evening, Chris Webby if you didn't already know, Step
