here I go, I'm not dead, I'm not alive Feed me truth, kill my friends Unless they do what I say I need silence, I need addiction I need a reason for my
Превод: Бронкс. Моји пријатељи убије.
cause here i go i'm not dead i'm not alive feed me truth kill my friends unless they do what i say i need silence i need addiction i need a reason for my
kill Where you're really not ballin unless you got 10 mill I shine so bright I blind ya Cross my crew, we'll find ya It's a motherfuckin shame My
then it's on again I just had to bring 'em back Word you definitely know what I'm about You know I had to bring 'em back yo All my friends call me stout
, the enemies Look man, you wanna see me locked up, shot up Moms crotched up over the casket, screamin' bastard Cryin', know my friends is lyin' Y'all know who killed
door, I began to explore Curiosity killed my cat but not me Because I learned how to kill with agility I grew up in the South Bronx, punch you in your
life in front of my Mom's And the feds never give up, they tryin' to kill us I'm stressed drinkin' VSOP tearin' my liver Livin' my life like I don't
my story of life I live Most niggaz that really know me got life as bids The trife as kids, this ain't no scarface shit These niggaz really will kill
the TAT crew, my nigga Brim The T.S. crew, and the whole Godsville South Bronx represent nigga, uhh The South Bronx, the South South Bronx South Bronx
Bronx, when I sell you Whiteplain Look J is built, to let the .80 tilt Gun brawl, One call, that'll get you haters killed Snap, pop, sprayed and pilt, so friends
friend in the world I'm hopeless and numb, I can't see but I can focus my gun And I'm down for smokin' blunts to the head My nerves is shot, my paces
and blew it 'Cause some times I lose it, give me a gun and I'll abuse it Puffing with my family, my bitch, my money or my music Making killas say he'
better run go and get your money clip [Jully Black] Run go get your money clip Run go get your money clip The emcee killa, killa killa
pretty, a pity It's hard to find but inequity covers every itty bitty Square diamond, the engine, of america, inchin Toward hysteria, pimpin, every fate [el-p] My friends
Jag, a Land Cruiser and a Benz And a mafia of friends to dispose my foes Stand over my shoulder while I head crack a C-Lo Taking care of my peeps 'cause
Shit I ain't talkin' periods when I say pussy stay in my path I amaze 'em like dag, you ain't a killa please That ain't no killa weed, them twigs are
