gonna Stab your back Stab your back Stab your back Stab your back Stab your back Stab your back Stab your back Stab your back Well I'm gonna stab yor
Translation: Tool. Stab Your Back.
hit quick as a pugilist Ugh, ah, what's up? Now your eyes swoll' Thought I went soft, 'cause my records went gold (Sucker) Buster, you're a muthafuckin' punk fool Caught you in your eye, while you reached for your tool
Drop some blues time to choose Why your heart is just a stabbing Bloody eyes can't describe The nature of your hacking Back to front the blade tastes blunt In the safety of your
mix Back, second round's on me Kuniva, Cashis, Stat Quo, Bobby Creekwater Obie Trice, what? *** didn't kill me Now a **** gon' get Peel my cap back,
back to forensic labs Your finger prints popped up This is where it begins Your street name was Henry the Saint Staten Island's where your crib was at
[Cam'Ron] See the problem is I ain't goin nowhere Can shoot at me, can stab at me Take your best shot (this is the remix) Suck a dick no homo DipSet,
that cold ass table And them hoes I gave you I'm that nigga that'll come and pour salt in your wound At the hospital , while the cops guardin your room
is your end, until then we'll be your friend Act not thinking is our tool, stand up for the golden rule Stab your friends in the back, rule the world
newborn, you can feel me in the womb Cool, that's cool You see, I cock back glocks, got more pull than slang shots Hit G spots by givin' hoes back shots
like they're dead anyways. so if you really want to get laid, don't waste your time in any bars, or any money on a whore. just cruise to your local graveyard
tools that you use against the physical rules [Beyond] Put down your weapon son (Slug talking) Put down your weapon son Put down your weapon son Would
And that's the nicest Thing about you So uncaring so assuming Back-stabbing, all-consuming Don't step over my head Don't step over my head You can filter your
your friends'll tell ya that you're goin through some changes Tryin to count your pockets, tryin to see what your change is, 'cause you're (famous) You
I got your back (Chorus x2) (Blaze Ya Dead Homie) Tomahawks, shotguns, axes, chains These are all the things that a G brings To your party, birthday
I think that they played you You album was whack huh, it's still on the rack huh Repo man hopped in your vehicle, they took it back huh You go get a
