License $0.00
Free download
Creative Commons license
Commercial uses of this track are NOT allowed.
Adaptations of this track are NOT allowed to be shared.
You must attribute the work in the manner specified by the artist.
Song Info
Genre
Charts
Peak #3,205
Peak in subgenre #499
Author
Suspicious
Rights
2004
Uploaded
September 07, 2004
Track Files
MP3
MP3 2.5 MB • 128 kbps • 0:00
Lyrics
Yo, I'ma nocturnal street hooligan runnin' wild
A problem child, that specialize in the bastard style
Didn't connect with my fams at all
And that's the root of all evil, never shoot'cha own peoples
But fuck it, I played the cards I was dealt with like a professional, god
Everything was intellectual
I stopped talkin' to my brothers, my mother and my father
I hated'em all so why bother?
My high-school principal said I was selfish, childish
Like I was fuckin' mentally-inbalanced
Lookin' at my low grades like they made a difference
The bitch even had the nerves to analyze my late attendance
So now, fuck school and all the teachers
I'd rather make music, sell reefer by the bleachers
I'd rather pull a heist for nuff sparklin' ice
And live fat for the rest of my life, spark the pipes
But shit ain't, never just peaches and cream
Bad decisions like diseases in my motherfuckin' bloodstream
Losin' battles got me madder than most
Got me thinkin' bout anthrax and Canada Post
Plus the drugs got a hold a me, I mean totally
Whenever I say no to trees I'm already smokin', seen?
Ha, it's like a vicious cycle
And the mic is vital to my survival like Michael
Jordan, with the ball when, in North Carolina he made the shot in without warning
That's what I want kid, notoriety for excellence
To have you stuck, like goin' to trial with no evidence
The world gon' recognize the shit I manufacture
The product, no artificial flavourin' to capture
Just, a hundred percent raw for what'chu want
So smoke a blunt, and watch me build my empire outta crumbs
I wanted sons, but now I see the bigger picture
Live to get richer, fuck what them scholarships get'cha
And I ain't never let a bitch keep me weighted
No buns in the ovens or child support papers
It's all about, bustin' a nut, a half second then I'm gone
Faster than Olympic track records, it's on
Yo, I'm sharper than a cactus is
And blaze more weed than ya average marijuana activist
Ain't notta shits fake, Drunkenfists mixtape
Heavyweights that lift weight, and double up everytime shit's bait
We dictate, on another level
Supreme individuals, that'll send you to Heaven kissin' the clouds
Snitches ain't allowed cuz we hate on'em
Yeah, we Kings of the Hill and stay on it, what
