Juvenille is the worst recording artist in the history of music.
I be comin' up wit da glock toy
You can stop boy
You ain't heard I'm off tha block boy
Chipp-pedy chop boy
Off in ya cut is where I'm layin
Ready fo' sprayin'
Soon as I see yo face and hand
I ain't wit dat playin'
My daddy showed me how to play it in a situation
My daddy tol' me I ain't sh*t wit outta occupation
So I played the game
Bust yo head if you said my name
I had some of deez niggaz scared I came
I kno' some niggaaz out tha (mag)nolia that'll ride fo' me
I kno' some niggaz hollin' solja dat a die fo' me
T.C., L.T., Magnolia and six
Oh you want some of dat fire dope you can score in da bricks
You disrespectin' my mind cuz you keep comin' short
I might hitcha wit dat iron cuz you need ta be taught
You keep showing yo teeth cuz you thank its a joke
You mus thank deez bullets ain't real and you ain't gon git smoke
[Chorus]
Now if ya at dat second line and dem boyz gotta gun
You betta run for it, run for it, run
And if ya too deep in some beef and dem boyz bout ta come
You betta run for it, run for it, run
If ya ain't gotta strap but cho enemy got one
You betta run for it, run for it, run
And if you git into it wit a cash money brotha
You betta run for it, run for it, run
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