Вершы:
Within Walls Cut The Strings

programmed robots stand in line scared to take a step ahead frightened by our dreams. Our existence in the strangers hand take it back cut the strings

star Bitches, bitches, bitches I'm fuckin' with these out of town bitches Bitches, bitches, bitches We fuckin' with these out of town bitches Bitches, bitches, bitches We fuckin' with

blood He's livin' for a ticket on the whiskey train The saddest thing's to see him venerate that ball and chain Roadhouse corn done cut his strings

't move 'cause I'm a representative Live for the street, ask, you die in the war 'Member that blast that three atcha, hide in the wall We gangsta, republicans with

but then i made it to the ceiling and every wall could hear me. And if these walls could talk, they prolly cry the the strings on a guitar. And see you, you with

Because I'm number one, competition is none I'm measured with the heat, that's made by sun Whether playin' ball or bobbin' in the hall I just writin' my name in graffiti, on the wall

with You don't wanna fuck with me Blam! Very, very difficult to fuck with Badder than bad coming from MoTown Blam! Very, very difficult to fuck with You don't wanna fuck with

She Got 4 kids. Her Legs Cant Close Like The 4 Door Inch Bronco That OJ Kill The White Hoes With. a Wealthy White Girl Without The face Lift, Loure Her With

it to the ceilin' and every wall could hear me And if these walls could talk, they probably cry Like the strings on the guitar And see you, you with