colors (more power) no flights To the moon baby you can roll with a star (Jones) and See what it?s like foreign V?s to the flight tell your man You
hard, blow my house of cards All turn up death, her bleeding starts In brute vermilion parts Now I slither through the hairline cracks In sanity, best watch your
word, they got that word? Don't it smell so good, in Southwest where they rap that hood Protect your chest, they up to no good And come through flossin
Rap vandals, stomp your ass like Wild Hoon McDaniel You cocker spaniel dogs, can't fuck with our catalog Put your lights out and leave your brain inside
for a new fleetwood You know I'm rollin, I can't be faking I come through and all your hoes I'm taking You know I'm rolling, don't do no simpin I'm an
a new Fleetwood You know I'm rollin, I can't be faking I come through and all your hoes I'm taking You know I'm rolling, don't do no simpin I'm an
my style if you're tryin' to play, My beats will maraud your ass any time of day Like deuce Biggalow's chick, Whenever your through shit People see
[Chorus x2] I roll slow through my city and Norwalk be the spot Where Lil Cuete kicks it, drinking, smoking pot Strolling through the One-Ways, the fun
yes demorally derogatory Mad expository expedition in your auditory Categories don't apply Your mind's eye is blinded by my battle raps Like cateracts your
of crying tears in my eyes, when I roll through And I don't trust nobody, that's why I act like I don't know you fools Y'all niggaz might fuck around, and jack your
Riders who cock hammers or soldiers who roll deep I?m a child of the night, homie I don?t sleep My crew, we slow creep while you?re counting your sheep
'm hard, blow My house of cards All turn up Death, Her bleeding starts In brute vermillion parts... Now I slither through the hairline cracks In sanity, best watch your
bottle of your finest Huckleberry sift through the piss looking for diamonds For that hell appears to that in your climate Get your money from the richest Seek your
then you know it's us S.U.C. and the Drank Baby, if it ain't Screwed up it ain't slow enough Bob your head man roll your red, get your grind on and forget
Just for talkin shit Ride Rolls Catch hoes like a mitt LA, Atlanta, New York Yo, my shit rocks Chi-town, Miami, Detroit I get much props Because I roll
down Stocking slow, giving hoes crazy stares They on their stroll, and half of them I put them there I saw a bitch, kind of young, Chinese and black mix I roll
time, but nigga, your boys follow me, I'm gonna blast mine Nigga huh, nigga what [Chorus x2: Young Bleed] Time is money, money is time, that Nigga Bleed
