Father, father, come see what I've built Made civilization out of the Nile silt, Built your monuments out of my brother's bones, Exalted your words in
Black and white diamonds, fuck segregation Fuck that shit, my money up, you niggas just huntin' nut Young Money runnin' shit and you niggas just runner-up
It's a hell up in Harlem, fuck it, another day Another dollar, wake up, to the barking from the rottweilers Pull the collars, make 'em sit for the godfather
s, we break laws Faggot cats claiming their crooks Soon I'ma smack him up, his mans and them too Yo, bag him up, smack him up Doing this do or die lifestyle
I am of no relation No matter who's buying, I'm a celebration Black and white diamonds, fuck segregation Fuck that shit, my money up, you niggas just
crossin' the street! [Repeat Chorus:] [Verse 2:] Yeah! - Niggas send me the wrong message, we gon' fucking kill the messenger Your whole clique! - Hollowtips'll tear up
Bone Thugs Who be the niggas that be sneakin' the pistol up in the party? Drink that 1-5-1 Bacardi? Drunk and finna fuck up somebody? (Bone Thugs) Keepin
' to get a check But baby, hold on won't you wait a minute The DNA a read negative, fuckin' these chickens ain't no way to live They tryin' to get up
Layzie] Now see I'm cockrrring up my nine I'm poprrring in the clip and cap And let you know what's really happening With that son of an assassin (son
will forget the day A star's born, let's name him little scarface My first born and yo I'm a proud father I gotta son, I gots ta be my son's father And
you coward rat-ass fucks Who raised you niggaz? Yo father probably hate yo guts Mad he didn't double up, and that Lifestyle bust Ya lifestyle fucked,
it for my niggaz in the ghetto And all my homies in the federal Lock up, behind the wall setting shop up They beat the block up, yet and still they couldn
slow us up, they hit us with dust Then they rush, bust, my big man Ron'll break the cuffs Three-hundred pound nigga, po-po has to fuck him up They say
like father like son....we got joey crack ridin wit us this time i smell murder.. young desperado straight out the graddo, im so bad, my shadow chooses
s biddin' war time I got a Bloomberg league So the hood's overwhelmed (why) They know it's the voice of the hustler whenever they hear son up at the Helm Son
You plottin' to flip, fuck around and get shot in the lip You stop with the quick and never make another move Even your mother lose, I hurt up your pops
think for the sake of the kids She would enroll in school or somethin' Now I know then was even harder Especially for a single mother raising me with no father Shit living up
