prepare For the victorious comeback of the year Assemble the militia as insert the scripture Lyrics for the instrumental picture Graphic in nature, respect mics I hold Certified gold, five hundred
to do something I look for work I get dissed like a jerk I do odd jobs And come home like a slob So here comes Dogg his gold is shivery He gives me two hundred
with your blood smears if you can't see a legend, i'mma make it clear: nigga i'm right here [outro] golden grill, cadillac deville (drop it) nigga we pimp grill golden
song was made then by you and me A billion years before these oceans rolled Oh I can see you burning brightly You shine like silver like sun gold And a hundred
the surprise and fright Now it's the vocal enhancement Vintage reigning rocks A hundred mines swing Dig a few chains of black gold Plus block the seven holes that froze A nigga soul and bust blood
!) She got "Grove St." on replay (Flocka!) Got racks you don't understand (Uh-huh) Money long from here to Japan (Uh-huh) Know it good when she go no hands
Hand me one of them thangs killed John Wayne D.E.A. back in this bitch Fuck around with this nigga Bosko, he stay mobbin' Shall we spit some saliva? Spit
to DJ with bruised ribs Don't hit me on the sidekick asking what you did Get a gun or ask 50's police to use his 'cause Bloods gonna get ya Bloods Bloods Bloods
to DJ with bruised ribs Don't hit me on the sidekick asking what you did Get a gun or ask 50's police to use his 'cause Bloods gonna get ya Bloods, Bloods
m from Compton, the hub city, I brought some thugs with me, that'll set up shop and get rid of drugs quickly, drive Cutlass Supremes, on gold D's, puff
swirl I was passing through the forest On that nice summer day Everything was at its best When i first saw him far away A mocking smile on his face A voice that froze my blood
knife His troubles, tribulations Revelations and regrets A wife, a child, a fight to trial Turned by the hand of death And the gambler saw his hand stained With the blood
Sad little boy of the street Hands of a thief With the mind of a dreamer Dodging the puddles with feet Of a torero in an arena Sings an old andalucian
do somethin' I look for work, I get dissed like a jerk I do odd jobs and come home like a slob So here comes Dogg his gold is shivery He gives me two hundred
fourteen years he tries that cliff, then back down again he slides Then sits -- and cries -- and climbs again, pursuing the perfect high. He's grinding his teeth, he's coughing blood
Ghf] Show those crabs how to rhyme [Rae] RZA Chef Ghost and Nas niggaz is the prophet [Ghf] It's only like five percent out of a hundred [Rae] RZA Chef
debted to weapon Love, honor, and respected But his image was different than what his character reflected Word is he?s seven-thirty his hands never dirty