with the punches, whatever Get in our way, destroy ya, make you wish you had never, ever With the real crazy, pyscho sick moonlight lady Sunnin' so nut and shady, kid pass me the three
thinkin' of (True!) And when the bitches see me they start to holler, "Marquis want some head and $500?" (Ha ha ...) 'Cause I'm a three-piece nigga, bitch
always the truth Rhymes Equal Actual Life In The Youth These are the streets Shit is real out here This ain't no fuckin' joke I lived in a spot called Millbrooke Projects The original
, toss a grenade Rein-force my zone as a lyrical barricade You better 'cause your dome piece blown Release chrome beats Nuclear missiles rhymes under my comb Three
warp speed MTV, level three, when I fly on BET Livin' astro, tell me how you feel One, two, one, two Flying saucers, spaceships move at warp speed MTV, level three
(bust) Smoke dust then take ten paces with big bright bows in my flamed phat laces W.C. Thunder thunder hot as fire it's the return of the three kings
Kick that shit then nigga Higher than a bird, off that herb, in the O A K Off on perv, parked on curb, rollin' up a vay Licked it three times, laced
get down Come from under my shirt try to lift you off the ground But on the other hand, I'ma keep running man I got about a hundred coming up with three
five ways (Noodles) We came off with two mil kid Fast (Rollie Fingers, no doubt coming through) La cosa nostra (Johnny Blaze!) (Lou Diamonds!) Represent kid. (Tony Starks) Universal frontier (Original
, we in town, hit king from seven crowns Spent rounds catch him while he rhyme in the Zebra Lounge Wounded, back in the eighty three summer heat Up in three
troy layin for travolta mic gun pump Layin on the floor clark's bleedin watermelon chunks Hold up... sprinkle the hash, tony chapstick Snatch rza last piece
bit of, you know little bits of Negro? Into the music isn't enough Music is all consuming, let me tell you... [Slug] You should have stuck with the original
played like the lottery Your lyrics are incorrect, so you step to me Lookin' for the key to release that first piece Three times two is six, Pete is one-three
views of the world distort Moms last resort, she decided we would move to Newark I took a deep breath leaving everything I knew behind The country air the green grass and my piece
eyes I enjoy writing songs, painting, movies and diner food I have two brothers, Chris and Graham and two parents, Paul and Jameija In august of 2-0-0-1 I went crazy.. This was originally
re shooting the uh, title sequence for Uncle Meat right now, which is the name of the Mothers of Invention movie that we've been working on for about three
be a fragmentary piece of some mysterious, perhaps apocryphal, larger work; evidently a lexicon of some description, undoubtedly of antediluvian origin
underground. Flush all the fashion and your old school passion, our world lives underground. Living for the money, so dead fuckin' funny, with your three piece