and I can't let you go, on your own. So alone, I stand before you. Don't you know? I adore you. Running away, the bridges go down in flames. Oh yeah,
At high school got head by the lockers Gassed the baddest girl in the class to show me her knockers Rocked jewels dropped school still didn't fail Rhymes still written well hold court
hug my momma I'm so sick I can't sleep at night, might swallow my tongue Get all the gas deposits out the closet, let the water run Get the flame thrower
an extra mic and a fire proof booth 'Cause you know I'm known to metal wire too You need a fire engineer when I lay this blaze I melt down cracks that
Black solidarity day, arrest sentence Lookin' at the moon he starts his coming soon High like my man, c'mon give me the fame This flame is so bright,
high to read the billboard Got a room at the Best Western The guy at the front desk looks like Les Nessman Hush now, not a sound Shut the door, and lay your towel down
fall How I did 'em all And was I born to ball Yo, but not on the hoop court But walkin' through court My gun-mouth that made it way down south With
contact Bounce back, demonstrate invincible bomb raps Not no hustler no player or speakin' no crime crap I'm vocally trying to score before my time lapse Uh! Full court
Sit down. Okay, from the top. [Amos Hart] A man has got the right to protect his home and his love one, right? [Martin Harrison] Of course he has. [
food chain. Keep the crown, clown, I rock an LA Dodger Fitted, showed my ass at Summer Jam but New York was down with it, Now the ball's in my court,
my high Me and Benz blazing, Rave got the gauge raising Sick of talking about it, niggaz ain't on my weight lift [NYG'z] Whenever we stand together, down
JOE paces uneasily in his white tie and tails, as a Palm Court QUARTET begins playing tango music. Lights up on the LITTLE ORCHESTRA, tucked in under
O This year them bitch-ass niggas gon' get theirs You swingin from my balls, why you down there smell my dick hairs Ya bitch And Dru Down, the real Mack
Gods [Ol Dirty Bastard] Da saga continues Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang [U-God] Olympic torch flaming, we burn so sweet The thrill of victory, the agony of defeat We crush slow, flaming
my niggas I did joints with Mary J. Blige my niggas I've eluded the coppers got booted with Big Poppa Skated through with the Ceasar Picadas At high
Why you standing there, like you can hold it down There's nine of us, only one can wear the crown Tear it down, down to the last compound New York mix
the crown, clown, I rock an LA Dodger Fitted, I showed my ass at Summer Jam but New York was down with it, Now the ball's in my court, never dribble out
torches, braziers and cookfires illuminated the dark plain before the fortress like a coruscating sea, painting the stygian heavens the colour of flame. And the high
