Lyrics
when the chronic smoke clears...putcha blunt down
you gon' see who's number one, fuck ya town
all i need, is a little bit of weed, and dreams
so big that I might, need a t-v screen
the size of Hakim, O-laju-an, you wan'na
pop shit wit the don..lets get it on
ima tell you, betta yet, show you how da rhythem flow
show you how to get the dough, show you how to get em low
runnin through these cats, like im Walter Payton
off the pages, you dont want an al-tercation
off the charts fag yo im off the chains kid
about to snap...cuz i lost my patients
..guns kill people dogg, rappers dont do it
unless you from my clique, cuz we rappin so fluent --see--
these --rhymes-- read, like im rappin out a eulogy
fuck around wit me, and you'll be dead up in a sewer G
when the chronic smoke clears, and the guns stop shootin
blood splattered everywhere, no I didnt do it
ima hop across state line, get away from jake
'for they come and try to take mine, night or the day time
...and no way im, goin back to jail
fuckin bullets gon' hail, when we pull it dont tell
MLov, K. Woo, A-Q, G-Flow
see 4 --nine's-- poppin when we at your front door
its atrocious, focus...comin wit that wack shit...
leave you wit the roaches...unstoppable
mic slayin killa....thrilla...no one spit it realer
when it comes to gettin down, Ima kill ya
....look at me dogg, im on the streets
im on these beats, i lay it down, all for free
not greedy when it comes, to makin this rap shit
cuz spittin on the mic dog...its jus practice
when actually, i should ask a fee,
or better yet, tell a motherfucker "pass the green"
for you splean ends up, in a fuckin crime scene
guys bleed, for a few G's, look and you can see
its the quiet before the storm, the force that waits
..i tell you this shit, for your own good sake
so come around poppin then lips, you get clapped
get wrapped, in a package, and shipped to iraq kid
