life, the street type Bullets storm niggaz start to swarm like rise on Dying on the same blocks when they exchange rocks And hand cops flamed rocks Year
in him did his bid with it Get married to the game but never have a kid with it Advice from the wise, slice the pies Too many schemes divides, when dreams collide
with the straps on John jumper, Eleanor Poker with the Mac Me and C. Goines, bible material Words collide, we might pop up in your cereal Rock you twice, rock
[Intro: Ghostface Killah] One-two, one-two, yo What the fuck is the deal, it's Toney Starks, nigga Ya niggas know what time it is, the kid with the lazer
When Im Gone Let Dem Remember All The Things That I Achieved A Little Something For Those People That Could Never Believe A Kid Like Me, Born Through
Danny Boy) I feel the devil in my eyes, I see em in Hell next I sniff and I sell death, walking up twelve steps I live rock bottom with bitches that sell
on the same streets where the prophets increase Walking on water, now I be throwin rocks at police [Verse 2] I'm a ride til the sun and the earth collide
out and park a Grand Am on him The city where the weak survive and the strong die Where beef collide, shootouts happen and hit the wrong guy I done seen
You into funny money, I'm rakin' in silly do' The type that don't really fold, just sittin' there and gettin' old I got the game ina loop kid, kinda like
on the wall of all the things that I did All the money and fame, 8x10's of the whole Rat Pack inside of a big frame Colliding with big names that coulda
lay his ass out And park a grand dam on him The city where the weak survive And the strong die Where beef collides Shootouts happen and hit the
into wars with firearms Bullets storm niggaz start to swarm like rise on Dying on the same blocks when they exchange rocks And hand cops flamed rocks
e le canne in macchina a fa? freestyle (gemitaiz) altro che beatbox io c'ho big props il soul di pete rock col pow di kid rock hip hop da beatstreet
player, now watch me throw it I feel we owe it to the people on the real side To collide styles because it seems real music died We got pride in the city Detroit Kid Rock
vas-y mets tes shoes Laisse ta guitare blues et serts une bouse On the rocks a Billy The King Une rouste a coups de bottes a Elvis The Caca Kid