testament
Posted: Wed Nov 07, 2007 1:15 pm
Hands on the Tec's and blow, the lyric-al, Van Gogh is next ta flow//
I hand no respect to hoes, who try ta stand close, ta the man from New Mexico//
For the pensions, I'll squeeze the gatz, and bullets pinchin, no redemptions//
bleeding cats, Is sentenced ta where tha evil's kept in, kept it, quiet on tha streets//
no one mentions, my name when I'm firin tha heat, but my main desires on da beatz//
When I arrive no one speaks, 9-1-1's what they dial-in, my rhyme flow violent//
makin motherfuckas Mic's go silent, I'm tha type to load up another nine clip//
And start bussin, no matta tha reprocussion, my ice is gon still bling//
the hopeless in tha night is gon still sing, they say tha real trife do real things//
While mothafuckas ridin a dick, I'm ridin a beat, sometime I agree my mind can decieve//
but nuttin like a youngin died in tha streets, left his spirit, heart, soul and criminal mind deceased//
See with a nine matic, I'm true tragic, in the projects stayin cooped, like back when//
they was pumpin Blue Magic, In the 80's it was coke, there aint been new habits//
Homie claimed he wuz tru, Savage when he made the news back then//
Now we got new rappin, tryin to focus on plans to see expansion//
Past when coke was feedin fams and we livin off food stampin//
Mah homie used to look plush in a 82, lost it when the Angel Dust rushed in//
blood on his baby blue, couldnt stand tha thoughts of bein cuffed in//
but still left a motherfucker dusted, prison time waz wut he stuck with//
life fucked when the Police came through BUSSIN//
I hand no respect to hoes, who try ta stand close, ta the man from New Mexico//
For the pensions, I'll squeeze the gatz, and bullets pinchin, no redemptions//
bleeding cats, Is sentenced ta where tha evil's kept in, kept it, quiet on tha streets//
no one mentions, my name when I'm firin tha heat, but my main desires on da beatz//
When I arrive no one speaks, 9-1-1's what they dial-in, my rhyme flow violent//
makin motherfuckas Mic's go silent, I'm tha type to load up another nine clip//
And start bussin, no matta tha reprocussion, my ice is gon still bling//
the hopeless in tha night is gon still sing, they say tha real trife do real things//
While mothafuckas ridin a dick, I'm ridin a beat, sometime I agree my mind can decieve//
but nuttin like a youngin died in tha streets, left his spirit, heart, soul and criminal mind deceased//
See with a nine matic, I'm true tragic, in the projects stayin cooped, like back when//
they was pumpin Blue Magic, In the 80's it was coke, there aint been new habits//
Homie claimed he wuz tru, Savage when he made the news back then//
Now we got new rappin, tryin to focus on plans to see expansion//
Past when coke was feedin fams and we livin off food stampin//
Mah homie used to look plush in a 82, lost it when the Angel Dust rushed in//
blood on his baby blue, couldnt stand tha thoughts of bein cuffed in//
but still left a motherfucker dusted, prison time waz wut he stuck with//
life fucked when the Police came through BUSSIN//