Shouts to Big Gill, Every dollar he invest Some niggas talk about, Clef write it on the check [Chorus x2: Fes Taylor] I'm a piano gangsta, I'm just
Did you hear that telephone ring? You'd better get ready and pack your things It's time to be going out again Kiss the ladies goodbye, wipe the tears
Chorus: Sometimes we are all we got, this time I have not forgot Even a blind man can see, that it could be you, it might be me And sometimes we are all
Thought I was living large ?til my car broke down On the coldest night of the year Thought I was getting there, but I guess I was wrong I had snow in
with ya then fuck ya I'm not the type to get knocked for D.W.I. I'm the type that'll kill your connect when the coke price rise Gangstas, they bump my
Du hast es im Radio gehA¶rt Und du bist am Boden zerstA¶rt Du hast sie im Fernsehen gesehen Bilder, die nie vorüber gehen Sie sagen es wird
When I'm with you, I need nothing more Night's an open door To forever But I know, love, When I'm far from home, Every day alone Seems a lifetime But
Fourteen feet tall, and glassy and pale, and covered in soot I don't know who he was or what he was, the question was moot I laid in bed, too scared
the hardcore hip-hop) (Can't stop! Yooou can't stop!) (This goes out to the hardcore hip-hop) (Can't stop! Yooou can't stop!) (Pusha T) As 'Ye flips the piano
d rather pull a mac on you Sorry Ms. Jackson but I'm packin [Kanye West] It's on I'm packin weight like Nina Simone piano flow It's like a Michelangelo
your wrists, it's where the cops had cuffed you Hard luck too? Well me too, screaming peoples Let's make a peace truce, unify all of the gangs No quarrels
] Sadly, tragedy happen Lost in captivity, imagine me happily clappin Big barrels, heavy ammo, man the mammal Packed in commando, rapidly practice supreno Crack my fingers on pianos
, damn fools, Stak hard on ya too We ain't gone play with this shit, same label and shit Like brothers, different mothers, but we twins in this shit Like piano
and my wrist is worth a lambo But I'm livin' in a mansion and I'm ridin' in a lambo Bunch a gangstas like sopranos, white keys like pianos And I'm lookin
hoes What happened to the thugs, drugs and G hits Talkin' all the soft shit just to please a Biz-Nitch And some of all is street And know the gangsta
back Marcy 'A Dollar Day' Real gangstas make hood holidays They ain't thank us but we still paid homage, man Soul Food Sunday, lookin' like Big Momma's, man Tell the gang
Down in Louisiana There's a grand piano playing man He knows that they can't kid him 'Cause he's got hot rhythm in his hand The blues that he'll compose
