Text:
Jim Jones Harlem

Rell fresh home How it feel to back where the bricks my nigga Ya heard, I got the D.A. on my ass right now All my soldiers behind the G Wall Inhale, exhale

G's up, nigga, ho's down If the bitch can't swim she gon' drown Runnin' the streets, totin' the four pound If you ain't know we was them niggas Then nigga

I'm in love with a thug I'm in love, yeah, with a gangster, yeah Hey, now my wife she won't stop blowin' my phone up Every bitch conversation they keep throwin' tha Jones

Rumors that were said, shot in cold blood Two up in my head, can't talk phone bugged Somebody want me dead but I'm still flossin' I rock my jewelry through

me Say what, say what, say what? You heard me Man, get a set of wings so you can fly wit the birdies Harlem, across the 1 1 0 (Harlem, thou-hundred)

the thing near ya ear, let it bang near ya ear Fivic grand crew haters linger in the air Clothes fit right like the finger in ya beer Last week hit anger in the rear Jim

They say rap music is subliminal But the music for us is like our own diary Something like a confession They tell me life is a bitch She's something

Uh huh, dipset bitch Yeah, you know Yeah, yeah, yeah, okay Niggaz, come along, would you ride wit' me? Bitches, come along, would you ride wit' me? People

American Gangster is what i want to be. the song goes thru my ears,but it's to loud. my feather used to be a gangster in his band. he was a mexaen then