The snipers are passed out In the bushes again I'm glad I got my suit dry-cleaned Before the riots started 'Cause there's only rehashed faces On the
[Intro: Thin C] Let it burn (burn, haters, burn) Uh, uh, let it burn (let that fire burn) Uhh, uhh.. let it burn (burn, haters, burn) Uhh, uhh [Thin
like weed 223 reasons to bleed, yes indeed, im a ghetto boy, thats right everybody knows im a G, im what you niggas are supposed to be, burn rubber right after i burn
carry a couple oxes Keep a duece-deuce by his ankle and get it popping You know, we be the boys clocking the graveyard shift Big bundles, counting our CREAM, burning
his brains out Till they're good and good and Good and done He's running He's running He's running He's running He run from burning bushes He run from
This was big for us Forever changing you and me Allow me to be ambiguous Though I can't stand ambiguity I'll beat around this burning bush Trying to
in our face Racial profiling send me straight to the island Hit me with the night stick, the captain start smiling The foul smell of the ghetto will burn
dream dream dream) And God said, look for the burnin bush, now I turned to weed So I jumped in my shell when I saw my momma burnin trees (hey) Hard white
drink and drive I'm not a beginner, amateur or local My album is sellin', because of my vocals You know what you need to learn? Old school artists don't always burn
muschi, so you can't squish No where near toosh, in fact if I jump out a bush And sneak attack's the only was I say I am bush Outlandish are these
supposed to The whole neighborhood knows you and they'll expose you Think about it before you walk in the door first Look at the store clerk, she's older than George Burns
don't blow reggie bush, neva would This heavy kush, oh you got some too?... very good With a grinder... we grinders, top rhymers Definers, drop gems so timeless Burn
swush, this that swush Don't shit ask, ... smack that tush, this right here is my bag A purple marijuana go and burn that bush Everyday christmas eve
couple oxes Keep a deuce, deuce by his ankle and get it poppin' You know, we be the boys clockin' the grave yard shift Big Bubbles, countin' the cream, burnin
a **** for real, we eat ya food Like dog, mutha****, in replace of a meal Give you a two hour car chase, flying through lakes and bushes Holding the wheel, still burning
your wedding At your honeymoon, turn that shit Into doom, turn your rap cass-ettes Into your fucking caskets, you goddamn bastards Lyrics I mastered, rhymes burns
on the hands Chef in the kitchen cooking love love..slam! Blow out the stash; keep the bundle in the bush and the trash D-up, burn brother for the real