Running from wolf packs thru the woods black Never look back A serpent bit her on the leg But she took that From February till june four months of gloom
before The Horsemen stalk We headless motherfuckers and we lacerate Don't you know the shit could get real when you wind up smoked? [Killah Priest] I
your Polo sheets Six up in your wig piece, nigga decease May you rest in peace With my Sycamore style, more sicker than yours Four, four, and fifty four
kid Out of Bronx, that'll stomp you to death like it didn't matter I'm even better than before, iller metaphors Killers bet it all on Pun, cause one
ninety-nine years Turn, turn, to the rain and the wind A crash on the highway, flew the car to a field Turn, turn, turn again There was four persons killed
yourself down 'round Mobile Well, make it on out to the club called Jack's Till you got a little time to kill Just follow that crowd of people You'll wind
on your mind when you loaded your pistol up? Was it some gangsta shit, that couldn't been it (Nah, that ain't it, fuck) 'Cause you bust four shots and
the drive or put the ride in reverse Don't wanna die again, better get up in the wind 'Cause a nigga kinda handy with the black four fin Or I gotta
out to my b-boy Beans And my S.P.chain gang, doin' the damn thing I gotta have it, don't forget my boogie with beam That keep me in good health and kill
like that, I bought it like that, I'm livin' like that For, you wack MC's Currency is made in trust of the Messiah I'm spending it to get higher Earth, Wind
they got wild they got rowdy Verse four {yella boy} I slowly moved to the bar to get another slow gin I turned back around hands was goin' in the wind
this....) Make it rough (We have sporadic fires throughout the city of Los Angeles) Verse 1: Not guilty the filthy devils tried ta kill me When the
out the pen, real niggas find nothin' nice Made this hog hit the brew, made me hit the weed Eatin' at the ho house, moms know a nigga kill Go to my
not hate or kill things And when you went astray, we sent prophets to reveal things And left scriptures behind to fulfill things But you still wanna kill
continues here in this command post) Make it rough (We have sporadic fires throughout the city of Los Angeles) Not guilty the filthy, devils tried ta kill
was three Her prayers and her feelings would shame you and me And the choirs kept singing of freedom Young Carol Robertson entered the door And the number her killers had given was four
For the hyrdo Lah Lah Lah Lay Lah Lah Lah Lay (for the doe) Lil' Lay Lay (that is) Nigga hit the studio And drop a song And then I get gone In the wind
him at all How many of his pals have been killed Last night the wind was whispering I was trying to make out what it was Last night the wind was whispering