Edge

Uh uh, uh, uh Ayo, Mac 10's and fake friends Lawyers little game homicide 25 with the f**kin' nigga face 'em But I'm still trill, still holdin' Rollin' gully until I'm froze, close in a box with a bomb in fluid Veins pumpin' ice First some 15 keep that kin' pumpin' right Hard white, cold cash Hold fast, fold fast, through the city so gas, no a*s Straight head bitch, I'm one from the feds f**k comma raps, same G and canna All I got in this world is my fifth d**k and nana Gangsta mannerism lyrical vandalism Niggaz be burnin' up their gums until the f**kin' hammers hit 'em Who need help? Well, until then I'ma take that mac off the shelf And hold the f**kin' street hostage Blowin' smoke out my nostril Every breath is a step to a non-time in death I wanna know where to go Need a place in my mind I can rest 'Cause this time is runnin' out for my flesh Dried up, sittin' in a chair fried up I wanna know where to go Need a place in my mind I can rest 'Cause this time is runnin' out for my flesh Dried up, sittin' in a chair fried up You know me, I don't need no introduction in this Big gun, big d**k, half of a meal on the wrist Sittin' in my continental thinkin' about potential connects I live in all, just pencil the best Parts of the live of a quintessential hustler When I pull a slide back Motherf**kers be hoppin' their faces don't get left open You understand? Shirt soaking, brain smokin' left in the ocean floatin' Shyne Po, dough, stack, y'all Rap niggaz is trash I don't give a f**k how much records you sold Tryin' to be me, keep it real dog, you'll die to be me You wanna know how it feel, don't you? To have a murder charge, took gun to the American Music Awards And live life against stars Doin' 170 screamin', "f**k the world" Gangsta get outta the car I wanna know where to go Need a place in my mind I can rest 'Cause this time is runnin' out for my flesh Dried up, sittin' in a chair fried up I wanna know where to go Need a place in my mind I can rest 'Cause this time is runnin' out for my flesh Dried up, sittin' in a chair fried up Where the f**k them niggaz at? We gonna handle this beef Turn your mic off bitch, see me in the street f**k peace 'til I'm rest in the dried up flesh is finish I don't know how to tell until I'm in the morgue Dysfunctional, highly uncomfortable paranoid Without the extra clip, bitch, try me I'll puncture you Had niggaz wakin' up with wings in their backs Halos in their head like, "Ayo I'm dead" Can a knight f**kin' princess Diana type Vane wives, vane light, pen I write cold, hand of ice They said too much for the motor mind to comprehend Walk wit me, pause take a breath Things ain't just the same for gangstas Sleepin' in diamond, it's f**kin' up the game for gangstas While charges tryin' to rin a gangsta Through it all I maintain my gangsta I need to know where to go Need a place in my mind I can rest 'Cause this time is runnin' out for my flesh Dried up, sittin' in a chair fried up ...