live, it's not what we have It's what we believe in It's not my time, I'm not going There's a fear in me, it's not showing This could be the end of
bar Had the hot wire, so I moved on an old car It was a bucket, but fuck it, it had to do Started it up and scooped my whole crew Two blocks later we
car lookin fly, what about the driver? when the door lift up and it lay back down when it push back start and it hit one mile when the bar shut down
hit four times but it hit yo spine Paralyzed waist down and ya wheelchair bound Never mind that now you lucky to be alive Just thinkin' it all started fussin' wit three
it, gotta, gotta get it Gotta get it, gotta get it Gotta get it, gotta, gotta get it Gotta get it, gotta get it Gotta get it, gotta, gotta get it Gotta
about that I gotta say it three times Can I get three fellows? Three times, uh, good God, ha All right now, all right Now if I ask for four Is it possible
my heartbeat The storms that rages from within Three times thunder, blood runs cold Got this wound on my soul Down on Hell's Half Acre Walking on fire
Yeah, they kickin' niggas door down 'cause it ain't no dope On the streets And a quarter of time to feed me That's all a nigga like me need Talking about
tell you the whole story of Shady's origin You'll be sorry if you slam my Mercedes door again! Now, it all started with my father I must have got my pimping
run cryin' Cryin' out the door Maybe I deserve to grab my coat and chase you down the street (Don't leave) Maybe I deserve to say it's not you, it's my
crawled on my hands and knees For three full days Draggin' along my big leather suitcase And my garment bag And my tenor saxophone And my 12-pound bowlin' ball And my
Jack Flash/The Rolling Stones] But it's all right now, in fact it's a gas. But it's all right--jumpin' jack flash, it's a gas, gas, gas! [My Generation
, if you hate Look into my eyes and tell me what it is you see in me Would you look into my eyes? Look into my eyes and tell me what it is you see in
keep my head up And show my loyalty for Eazy E, even though I'm fed up 1997 hey, everybody grab ya weapon, it's the art of war It don't stop, it won
