Uh...[Z-Ro]You can't assassinate my character, unless you bring them big gunsMay have made a mockery of men before me, but not this oneIt's gon' stop here, murder 24/7 around the clock hereDropping music is cool, but I'ma make a body drop hereStupid don't bring a glock here, better bring a bazookaCause lil' chil'ren ain't coming out to play, they coming to shoot yaThis is where I'm from, even the dope fiends'll touch yaI represent Missouri City, now how could I be a busterEven when it's a sunny day, I rain on paradesAn angel of death in bulgari glasses, and a taper fadeDickie top Dickie bottom, and some house shoesThis is what I'm wearing, when I'm coming to bring the woman up out youI'm making me a list, and I'm checking it twiceWith my AK, plus the banana clip I'm Santa tonightBut when I'm coming down your chimney, ain't dropping off I'm takingBet I make more than the news, this is history in the making[Chorus - 2x]I'ma walk it like I talk it, whether private or in public maynMy life is my bidness, if you ain't God you can't touch it mayneI ain't worried about being a underdog, I love it maynMy attitude is fuck it, and motherfuckers love it[Lil' Flea]I'm nothing else but a G pedigree, bulldog gutter breedRidgemont M.O.C., till them hoes cover Flea23's in the T plack, if I'm looking for my enemies strappedYou fin to see a jackA trap for a rat, a corner for this crackDope fiends we in a act, so paper I'm fin to stackYou looking for them real O.G.'s, my niggaz thatCause real G's stay low key, and roll strappedStreet on the map, the heat in my lapIf you move I'ma snap, hoe you smooth on your backMy dogs don't play by rules, you do the mathI keep it one hundred, for niggaz that can't addYour present is your past, you niggaz done forgot where you came fromAnd I ain't gon', help you find your way backI call it like I see it, on some real shitAnd I can tell you what it is, cause I live this nigga[Chorus - 2x][Z-Ro]I remember when the radio station, didn't wanna play meNow every Thursday through Saturday, somebody club pay meThey telling J. Prince, I don't handle my bidness and I'm lazyTwenty albums in nine years, they smoking and they crazyI'm charging ten thousand a show, that's 120 a monthWell over one million every 3-65, yeah that's what's upI'm claiming King of the Ghetto Entertainment, cause I'm down with meWhen I die, that's the label I'm taking in the ground with meI keep them automatic rounds with meI don't need security, I hope somebody get out of line and clown with meYou don't wanna see me, with my forehead bald upCause that's when the police, and ambulances get called upLet it be somebody I never met, even a relativeForgive me for sinning Jesus, you know I ain't gon' let em liveAsshole, I'm the walking definition of itCause my attitude is fuck it, and motherfuckers love it bitch[Chorus - 2x][Talking]Haha, King of the Ghetto EntertainmentSlash Rap-A-Lot Records, Z-Ro the CrookedZ-Ro the motherfucking Mo City DonAnd I'm fucking with my hood nigga, Lil' FleaThe boss dog, he representing Street motherfucking MilitaryThat's right nigga, free Pharaoh niggaR.I.P. Butterboy huh
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