So wrong So wrong So wrong So wrong So wrong Life ain't what it used to be I got these coward niggas shootin' me So wrong So wrong So wrong So wrong So
I was born in New Jersey, I said it before But I guess nobody heard me, my mother died young No sistas or brothas, I was the only son When I was twelve
boy Get your steel 'cuz I feel like a headbanger Yah, I got a gang of shits Styles guns my Uzzie wieghts a mutha-fuckin' ton Bucking down one, bucking down two Bucking
thinking that you are somebody So what? You got a gun, I don't give a fuck about it I would take every bullet and every buck up out it So motherfucker
a million trucks Lookin' smellin', feelin' like a million bucks Pass the bottles, the heat is on We in the huddle off smoking that cheech and chong "What's wrong
me It's my legacy, we can't let it stop, uh uh, not now The whole world endin up in buck-buck-pow Corruption, destruction, disaster Everybody tryna' rap
oil, watch the cocaine boil Keep my eye on it so the shit won't spoil, then I pause And ask God why did he put me on the serve, just so I could die I
unchosen, 'cuz my jewelry froze You know how it goes, these young niggaz don't want it like this Go off and get yo' gat, to silence the chit-chat, blast So
Hoes unchose, cuz my jewelry froze You know how it goes, these young nigga don't want it like this Go off and get yo' gat, to silence the chit-chat, blast! So
) Yeah, Yeah...Space Age forever..Niggas and hoes better recognize Eightball & MJG...been ten toes down in this game since we were two young playas in
Mane Pullin All Yo Hoes Mane [Verse 2: Lil Boosie] I Bought Them Levi's Back Hoes Jockin My Swagg White Tee's White One's Can't Go Wrong With Dat
Young and stay, we realest I'm on my way to the show, gettin' paid, marvelous rates You the ace, I'm the spade Cut, cut gay, buck, buck spray This ain
pissy elevators I went from playing the same block to Bangkok So I can get money between raindrops And my piece so heavy I pop a chain a week And get so
dresses, the sexiest I had to tell her she's a young Janet Jackson live in living color Look here, mama, you're dead wrong for having them pants on Capri's cut low, so
' crack is all I'm good for Hangin' in the hood for so long, I see why they talk Bitches, snitch a bustaz home (Can we talk fo' a minute?) You're wrong
