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Jun 1, 2004
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#1
no1 can beat me and my peeps, we are the few elite savage-beasts/
livin lavishly, easin trees, gittin cheese - plenty of that cabbage-green/
diamonds-galore, hangin from our ears and necks - the most expensive ice-from-the-store/
hear that tecc? watch yer step, slugs are bout to thump-your-head/
bust-our-lead, nothin you can do bout it just accept your death/
fuck a vest, i roll natural, 1 to the chest 'n im under a pastor-fool/
like brotha lynch, 'ima walk 2 my funeral', thats what a real man has-to-do/
i always blast first i'll be atchyou-dude, so never ever think im the last-2-shoot/
itll get you lit up quicker than Game rippin on a buncha crips-in-blue/
and when shit goes down my motha fuckin lips-is-glued/
its-the-truth, an were smart too gettin rid a all the evidence/
no fingerprints, forensics cant figure out who did-this-shit/
ya idiots, well either way im outta here/
time 2 smoke some chron n start drinkin beer/