years of struggle huddles an plans can?t amount to millions bubble That?s why we keep stacks tucked and cuddled No matter my home nigga my home is where
the back of the train to the caboose ya pull em out the game fuck bits I pull em out of the strange fuck it I pull them out of there lane now your playing
what I became, something like a phenom, nuttin' but a g-thang Things I've seen when I'm looking out of these frames Pictures I've painted on the walls where we hang
, start running away 'Cuz we're coming for ya We're gonna read them out I've grown tired of holding this pose I feel more like a stranger each time I come home
, 'cause Bob sits at home and smokes pot But his twelve year old brother looks up to him an awful lot And Bob likes to hang out at the local waffle spot
chain hanging,crome frames swanging,out of the west coast to my eses ? im back with the gage like back in the days with the rag back in the train out
luck with this little Rabbit so fuck it Maybe I need a new outlet, I'm startin' to doubt shit I'm feelin' a little skeptical who I hang out with I look
Yeah, this is the best part of the trip Hold on to something, hold on to something We about to take the road less traveled You ain't gotta go home, but
out I could fly to Dubai and hire Buffy the Body Don't call us if the bitches ain't flawless If they are, then we can hang, like Aretha Franklin braless
happy Watch that Mo-yo, fixin to solo Ima come through cause my grass startin to grow (Big Moe) Out tha backdoor, that nigga named Pokey Ima comin out
It's so close to bein' slavery, in Texas n**** it's scary I reached out to C-Murder, right before I came home And when him home, let me go I make sure
out, unseen like I entered the ninja Nigga still gotta get his grind on Come get introduced to my home, I grew up in the crime zone Soon as you grown
and everybody gon' know I'm just a skinny nigga tryin' to get bigger and grow stronger And the lust to live plush and can't wait no longer Sick of seein' moms workin' comin home
bids, lick a shot for the foreign car American trucks old timers that'll throw a stack of presidents up Got dice shooter slang, need a pistol to hang
around now with three of my guys The war is on and I'm on the rise We rolled right up to his favorite hang out Said, "Hello", and then the bullets rang out
, you only burn and choke And so I leave out the house and walk the land Wild pigs run and feed off the dying man And look around you, there's bodies hanging
the master The walls of my home feature bodys in the plaster The dead but sticking out like hon solo when he froze With my favorite weapons hanging off
Murder haters that don't feel a Niggaz claiming they want to bring it, but really don't be killers Balling out so hard The size of my rims grow to a