and tired of hearing your song Telling how you are gonna change right from wrong 'Cause if you really want to hear our views "You haven't done nothin'"! [Jackson
lies Don't know what I've done, everything you've got Things you've done to me, are coming back to you You know just what I've done, the things you've done
hair, can't see nothing from the waist down For them dollars make her holler like "woah" And my transactions got them Jacksons, Michael You corny rappers can't be serious Cuz deep down we know you
cheap, motherfucker, if you really feelin' froggish, leap Yo slim, you gon' let him get away with that? He tried to play you, you can't let him skate
and you in a two man cell You washin' nigga's draw's takin' my Dick leanin' on the wall now mystikal you bitch you Remember when you said you wasn't gonna bow You
You can't fuck with Storm, six niggas in the truck with Storm You want to jack him, but you won't got no luck with Storm My dirty run with dirty niggas
It'll put height in your mack Don't take to much off If you want a nose like Michael Jackson Xzibit: If you want it done right, nigga come see this
't have it The stupidest shit, my dick ever done was fuck you I love ladies but I hate hoes, so thats why you get Notta, nathaniel, you nothin' nartica
[Hook] (Mannie Fresh) I done did more hoes than Michael Jackson done shows I done made more money than Tommy sale clothes I don't think that you
won't believe you the whole world know that bastard rap Once you outta the throne you can't have it back Retirement home and ain't nothing after that Except you
sick I heal n-ggas for good cause homie I've been ill since Hilfiger was hood (haha remember that? Hilfiger cargoe's) won't admit it but if you was a real n-gga you
They won't believe you the whole world know that bastard rap Once you outta the throne you can't have it back Retirement home and ain't nothing after that Except you
so for shizzo (2 times) [Verse 2: Crooked I] Oh... you niggas thought it was over and done? I told you a soldier would come Run for both of your guns While you
Michael Jackson, It don't matter how much scrilla, You got, you still a nigga, They either assassinate your character, frame ya, or they kill you, I don't
