CORRIGER LES PAROLES

Paroles : Freeworld To The Pen (Radio)

I must of been raised in city streets
Just to be the chosen one
Playin golf with me nine iron
Gotta bust a hole in one
Like them hits squads
Do them quick jobs
I'm gonna get gunned down
Me lickin them shots
Never let nobody get passed one round
I be the son of a G and gun blaster
Them gonna be casper
Me pull it much faster
Daddy left me basterdly
As a g at last I see
Now bow dow thow so call me daddy streets
Gotta rain like rain man
Executed me game plan
It's a bird in a plane
Comin from the main land
Me living thе high life
Keepin an eye out for thе drive by
As the word of the lord that's war
That were fool die by y lie
Mira I died
That man so fried from up out a high
I'm ready to die when the bags fly
Then jump on the mic and sound alive
Makin my blocks
Smokin my rocks
Steady be hittin me licks
Smokers expected the two one action
Cut flex as big as them bricks
Collections from the connections
Cashin checks into the safe
Tryin to get a crank
Now got a crunk
Mom want me to stop but I can't
Just smokin my sets as I rest on top of the hill
Gone chill with the real deal
Me packin the steal that kills in thrills
Guard my grill in the battle field
Me popin them pills for dollar bills
Makin you feel no love
Keepin these fiends in these fine dreams
In these h-town steets on up
Hold up
Were all the meanin for the fienin in my neighborhood
They huntin me down for more
I'm guessin my caine was good
From they one they begun
They life was't strait
Now I become the one these dirty cops hate