C-Bo Follow

(Verse 1)

Now can you picture this a 40 calibur wrapped in my fist, hoppin out a challenger sendin challengers in a bliss. Now focused on the killer that thrill off of my adventure, all I leave is a flash of gunpowder that you remember. They mix the thuggin in public underneath the evil eye, where they fight fire wit fire to defeat the evil guy. So hard to focus when life is so hopeless for the youth, so predatory for territory we just go and shoot. And gettin drunk -N- smookin weed is the only action, & fuckin bitches -N-squeezin triggaz for satisfaction. So critical that when we do is just to justify, so experimental to the world they objectify. Can't be a man in poverty fully sanitary, only freedom I see for us is when a man is burried. So fuck the cops & they laws til I'm compensated, fuck the 40 acres and a mule that was understated..

(Chorus)

(Verse 2)

Trapped in the city no pity when the semi's let loose, the killa ocean this bulletproof is my wetsuit. No one can save the babies is crazy, so my next move have em runnin wild when the tech shoot. Ciminal mind the only intentions of homicide, so we graduated from drive-by's to walk-by's. Guess it is the penitetiary eventually, and I will not cry when they mention me and they sentence me. I know my life is suicidal, it could be me in the streets wit em` checkin my vitals. But I will not worry until I'm burried, my killaz'll come through and hit u -N- put blood on ya bitch like Carrie. Kansas was my tutor Black Guerrilla's my father figure, the mob father the straight killa the mob figga. We rottweilers that pop collars wit all triggaz, the concious of a thug nigga natural born killa.

(Chorus)

(Verse 3)

They told me death was comin -N- I aint ran yet, they say they comin for my head -N- they aint came yet. Them bullets riddle from out the thick wit my entourage, and for me it's kill murda murda like I'm a God. I'm infected with this thuglife can not save, been injected wit this shit since a mothafuckin baby. Born in the projects shoot at any target and everyone of you niggas is the object. Physically I'm the mysery of your reality, & mentally I'm the headache about my sallary. Its M.O.B still money over bitches,in the chevy hittin switches damn fool about my riches. Society tryin me tryin to give me the book, while the feds tappin my phone tryin to give me the hook. Big fish on the line crime is a way of life, and if I gotta serve time I'll pay the price.

(Chorus)