puff, inhale my name Smoke on it, shit, choke on it Bitch nigga, I'm ma make a hit nigga Hot mother fucker down to the skit nigga Game over playa and nigga ya scored
Hey little Suzie, you don't have to cry no more Hey little Bobby, don't you worry about the war Hey little Jessica, you just keep up with the score 'Cuz
Named Sue and that was okay And everything except then I started to think about it and I thought It is unfair I am looking at the whole thing from the poor
cry crocodile tears Just look a but concerned as election time nears Two sets of laws for the rich and the poor Look at the prisons and tally the score
are real Hey little Suzie You don't have to cry no more hey little Bobby Don't you worry about the war Hey little Jessica You just keep up with the score
the clip and lost Kano My mens wear problems like Timbs See it all in they face, ask Mase, he got wars to win Scores to settle, crews to crush You rush
mind escapes but I ignore Temptations, to embrace the path of raw When I was younger my hunger taught me how to score Not sayin I was poor, but I was
be polite. Any question you have will be answered on time. There's no poor left to kill, (dunno complete line, liek wtf). Spend your money on nothing, You'll get your score
Me and my brother used to go and give her birthday hugs, And wipe the tears from her eyes .. like mommy don't cry, Mommy we're fine, were gonna be alright
fill my shoes From my blueprint beginnings to that black album endin' Listen close you hear what I'm about, nigga feel my truths When pop died, didn't cry
my poor heart was true as true as setting sun making love to you meant you and I were one never wanna see you sad never gonna make you cry never gonna
your stomach's equal to the work!" "I wouldn't touch him with a fork, why, he's as filthy as a Turk." This badinage the poor wretch took with stoical
Chorus Oh I, I just died in your arms tonight It must?ve been something you said I just died in your arms tonight (X3) Verse 1 Pop died, didn?t cry, didn
know why you're here Can see your face so far If you don't want to fail You better hide your scars Make a poor man cry The way you run your life Make a poor
fool the poor & weak To the light they seek I sell the blessings for 50 dollars more I am god I kill people just for pleasure I love to see them cry
Bibi score a few goals [Chorus:] Whe can satisfy me A trailer load a money Whe di shatta dem need (whe dem want) A container load o money Mi nah go dead poor
are real Hey little Suzie You don't have to cry no more Hey little Bobby Don't you worry about the war Hey little Jessica You just keep up with the score