dead in the street Somebody called his people and they come downstairs screamin Six girls cryin wild cos Money had a child A good dick, couldn't even stand the .44
dead in the street Somebody called his people and they come downstairs screamin Six girls cryin wild cos money had a child A good dick, couldn't even stand the .44
Yeah, yeah, uh, one 44, two 45's Three loaded clips, four niggas roll, one nigga drives 500 Benz, six reasons why this kid should die? We shootin' every
run is thorough And got it lock, takin over blocks wit loose rocks Makin happen hops, bitch ass niggas that call cops Scared of static, my 44 bustin straight
(4:44) Written by Neil Young, Published by Silver Fiddle Music (c) 1988. Recorded May 4th, 1988. Midnight, that old clock keeps ticking, The kids are
dont give a fuck Because they dont plead and breed HCP nigga what [Lord Infamous] I always leave them in suspense Better put up your defense cause this .44
Atlanta Pulled up at 112 ran up on that black phantom Security hopped out no Joe in here Just Outkast gettin ready for a show in here So I uncocked the .44
hunned I need sumtin to hold Bust a couple of shots in memory of my nigga foe You at home nigga I swear to god ima empty out this chrome shit and never
did too, Doc got to him, shot him through But Kid looked up said don't shoot me more, but Doc just smiled and emptied his 44 Oh won't you have another
raw in the streets) For the fellas on the corner posted up 20 deep With your ifth on your hip, ready to flip Whenever you empty your clip, dip, trip
Waves break over the shore, her heart breaks over him Fickle love, faded fantasies, sweet dreams turning sour within She touching 44 and he not so sweet
is cheap And my mouth is filled with blood From trying not to speak So search for an excuse And someone to believe you In foreign dressing rooms I'm empty
from this news Like your footsteps in crowded rooms Feel the sweet scents of autumn blooms Is this what you imagined Catch your glimpse from her empty
lonely blue days without a word from you and 44 million more tears I've cried since you walked through that door The sun never reaches my doorstep each empty
Good morning, Mr. Railroad Man What time do your trains roll by? "At 9:16 and 2:44 And 25 minutes 'til 5" Well, it's 9:16 and 2:44 And 25 minutes 'til
titty nipples While I'm puffin' on my blunt Just some gangsta shit that I do When I ride with me and you We alone in the middle of the night Rubbin' my .44
nap sack where they holdin' all the work at What You Know About That? What You Know About That? What You Know About That? I Know All About That Loaded 44
to Atlanta Pulled up at 112 ran up on that black phantom Security hopped out no Joe in here Just Outkast gettin ready for a show in here So I uncocked the .44