your switchblade knives And cut it up Kill the ones who speak if they speak of us Cause they'll never really tame us Go get your guns and your switchblade knives
old fashioned Yeah that's what the papers did say It's just a Cuban crime of passion, anjejo and knives a slashin' Yeah but that's what the people like
hit a million dollar target, You ain't came up yet well nigga' let me show ya, (aaaa) Come across dope like planes and boats, Like baloons filled with
deep breath and took three easy steps One son in awe questionin what his man saw He explained; "Q-Unique, but it was like morphed into gigantor" Crowds gatherin like
in your crib or the outside world 'Cause the pound clap well, like fan mail Choose to ignore me? The warnin' that I gave 'em Get at me, you an' what army? The fashion
Ah, like a good ol' fashion nightmare, ah Ah, like a good ol' fashion nightmare, ah Ah, like a good ol' fashion nightmare, ah Ah, like a good ol' fashion
shadows. I am dreaming and cannot hold it. I have seen. (Dear Christ: the silence and the loss; we are born and fall. Dear Christ, you too are broken and lost and hanging like
and daughters But the reason they come back is what's been pouring out the tap There's something in the water, like oh I think there's something in the water, like
in my lifetime) Ill B Uh (like that) You need to recognize 21 years of pure bullshit It makes me wanna bang my head on the walls And do some shit like
warriors return to the Coney Isle Wonder Wheel [Chorus] 4x My momma told me there'd be days like this Days like this, days like this, days like this (
punches I survive and rock Cause I keep the crowd alive And the texture of my voice Is course and kind of hoarse and cut Like I'm throwing a thousand knives
look, I hit a million dollar target You ain't came up yet, well nigga' let me show ya' Come across dope like planes and boats Like balloons filled with
That old fashioned word, it's a word called love Called love, called love, hung up, hung up This must be the way the nigga 'Pac felt When he made 'Me
knives, slicin' to the root of your brain Funk locks when the terror come to box from the Pete Rizzocks Knocks the ghetto blaster funkin' full fashion
punches I survive and rock 'Cause I keep the crowd alive And the texture of my voice Is course and kind of hoarse and cut Like I'm throwing a thousand knives
daughters, But the reason they come back, Is what's been pouring out the tap. There's something in the water (like oh!) I think there's something in the water (like
[Unknown singing] That old fashioned word.. it's a word called LOVE! Called looooove, called looo-oooo-oooo-oooo-oooo-ove [Jay-Z] Oh! This must be the
