[P. Diddy] Land where my father died, land where my children cried Come on, America, ain't no barriers Free the strings, let's see how freedom rings One
don't fit in with squares I smell shit and piss, know where it's coming from You stepped on number two just to be number one Now I'm a step on you, bring
do, I'm not letting Work a race horse til her hair start shedding I'm not regretting, the dirt I've done A nigga wanna wet me I'ma squirt my gun I need
fe mi number num one x3 i nom i nom one x3 this one dedicated to all badman whether ya from Manchester or London whether ya from north London or Brixton
beat him till my arm's numb And stomp him like Lars did that drum on one, motherfucka! [Demoz:] I once heard The Art of War is don't start a war So
get me on the creep no They getting merked, in they fresh white T oooh H-Wood, be the set I claim Southside we connected mayn, world respected mayn Hitman, be the number one
haven't apologized so please play this back while I try to come to terms with such a heinous act you know in more than one way cocaine numbs the brain
killin other brothers I thought the idea was to love one another? Open up the paper to one more death If y'all keep this up then there'll be no one left
lay it thick to bitches, like big dicks picture this You battlin' me for chips, throwin' your best lines Passin' to me spit, I'm throwin' my worst lines
, Eastside) All my fly day numbered, hustlas baby Throw yo hood up if you representin' (Westside, Northside, Eastside, Southside) All my fly day numbered
credits roll, the camera pans And in the mist our hero stands He starts to speak, then folds his hands in prayer An awkward pause, then what's my line
y'all just keep on tryin to diss this Nigga that you know that's been down for years I've clowned for years, and y'all could never fade my peers One two
mat Nasty nigga, make ya beleive that im a classy nigga But im far from that average joe that you know Use people for sheilds at shoot outs That i started
throat shit [Chorus x2 - Clipse] This is for my thug hustlers, dealers and gun runners To my niggas locked, holdin' it down in body numbers Think of
start to ride kinda slow And now we're in their territory So we let all our triggers go Twenty niggas drop to the sound of that auto gun I seen that
followin' we start to swallowin' the evidentials Keep supplier's name confidential Crooked cops started buckin' at us Made a turn to a dead end, but froze cuz the cops had us I grab the Tec and started