LARS: August 4th, 1990, kicking it across the bay, when we went straight to that island on that momentous day. To explore it, not ignore it, like Christopher
the sounds of the block now Oh the gangster po patrol's puttin' bros on hold Ice cold till they patrol half of whatever's sold Oh, no hos stroll the blade
as a thug nigga, until the day I die Live my life as a boss playa, 'cause even gettin' high I know y'all know this is Thug Life bay-bay Y'all got me
some other shit Can?t tell me shit about the tricks of this trade Switch blade with a lil' switch to switch blades And switch from a 6 to a 16 inch blade
gone deaf but still remains Upon the beach where hound dogs bay at ships with tattooed sails Heading for the Gates of Eden The time rusted compass blade
the life Doing shows on the stage seeing souls getting saved Hearing this track being played in your escalate As you roll through the hood sitting on blades
find demise as hatred has its way panic thrives, our numbers rise, don't open you eyes the rally's closing forcing you at bay you don't want to see
You better use your mind fast and bring your pressure down quick 'Cause you feather weight fuckin' in this heavyweight clique You know karate, got a shiny gun in your hand Got a razor blade
drop clip, dump, drop, clip, reload Be like I can motherfuckin' explode Talkin' about I'll be fuckin' all kind of women That's B R P, blade, run or
his hand He said I can tell you're headed for trouble son and your momma wouldn't understand So he took that money and his brothers old bay and he
gonna tuck some other shit. Cant tell me shit about the tricks of this trade.switch blade with a little switch to switch blades and switch from a 6 to a 16 inch blade
like a german hound We spark a freestyle session With a beef and forks (? ) collection Full moon yeah kid no question Yo the cipher's over now par bay
restoring the life Doing shows on the stage seeing souls getting saved Hearing this track being played in your escalade As you roll through the hood sitting on blades
no black ink on the black paper, bay. stare at the ceiling, fall into dreamless sleep. day climbs your chimney, taps you on the shoulder blade, "spit
a 100 or more running, so now I'm gunning If you try to play them players nigga than you getting played Keeping my game tight so short like a razor blade
from our friends Like a scratch across a lens Made everything look wrong From anywhere we stood And our paper blew away Before we'd left the bay So half
I'm the Doc pure water lettin' Bay Watch the slaughter I jump off stage and kick him in the fade I'm lifted like my back carry helicopter blades Fuck
It was me and my monkey And with his dungarees and roller blades Smoking filter tips Reclining in the passenger seat of my super charged jet black Chevrolet