Yo
Yo c'mon son
Yo they killin em out there son
They dyin out there son, word up
Yo they killin us son, I'm tellin you
Y'all niggas c'mon that's my word
Y'all better c'mon
Yo wake up son
They dyin son
Yo, c'mon nigga, wake up
C'mon
It took me 24 years to figure out what makes this world go round
It's not man holding ground with dope sound
We gots to ask
Why do you feel that a meal can make you ill
When you know that Broke Bill can still
See right through your plastic ass
Before crack was a sport and we had thoughts of getting busy
Before death left, and fame had his way
The town: Brownsville
The place: The Ill
Follow the trail of resh blood drips you'll end up on my bricks
The Marks:
Home of the warrior thrown home
Our true thugs that's dead and gone
In the hills most effective chrome
Return to these graves
Showin youngsters what I'm facin
Cause we had trouble
We been strugglin since single shot gauges
That's straight ghetto bad luck
But, I done passed up more shit
Than you may ever touch
What, we on sacred grounds
Without the guidance of our fathers
All we know is how to double clutch revolvers
Me and my own staff flaunt a different path
I'm tryin to dip shit minus in your highness
The finest of kickin half
Honest to god, I'm layin down my card
It's been hard, for too many years
Blood sweat and tears
These 3 words
(Man got somethin to say)
Blood, sweat, tears
(MOP Family)
These 3 words
(We went to the death, we knew he was dead and gone)
Blood, sweat, tears
(We comin all the way from New York City, hear me out)
These 3 words
Blood, sweat, tears-a
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