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I got em stuck off the realness, the king murderous The city where you get caught slipping, homie you learn to bust I get harassed by the gang unit observing us They got a gang in every state now, what did you learn from us? California don't need a motive to run up on em My forty-four got me fully focused, I'm smoking doja I'm holding on, remaining strong, putting love in my culture You and your phony homies know when its best to approach us Coast to nostra don't speak about it, how you supposed to I can't wait till my older homies get out of Folsom Intellectual gangsters I learned the most from Sell the most drugs, Atlanta and Minnesota I feel like my last breath is getting closer As I seen the candles lit at the store by the corner You keep hating on me dog, but your girl supports us Autograph titties, that's how I'm gonna promote us I recommend with your enemies, never reconcile I taught you better, you haven't been ready in a while Full of bullets holes, you supposed to know the deal If I could rule the world, I'd do some songs with Lauryn Hill And talk about the realist shit on how the fuck I feel On how you down to sell your soul for a couple mill Ceramic rap, I'm bout to name it the traffic rap They caught Tommy on the road, we gotta bring him back Fuck it, we lost till somebody gotta call the boss Letras de cancionesThis is hard or trusty Vindo I been knowing you the longest Do it like Italians do in the old Boston I put Biggie Smalls tape in my old walkman I'll tell you to your face with no metaphor Fucking with the king, my soldiers ready to go to war Don't comprehend what I'm saying? Go get Rosetta Stone Forty-seven mob homie, we the next to blow From Letras Mania