Candy kisses, missing wishes It's a revelation too late Have a listen to this cold heart It's a revolution too late Have a listen to this cold heart
it's over now. There's no conversation, there's no conversation. Please don't turn home now, tell me there's a way somehow. With no conversation, without conversation
Martini or Goose, now Tell me what's up, what's up The conversation my eyes Is havin' wit your thighs Gone get me outta line They better shut up, shut up You're movin' them hips Killing
week I bet you think that's pretty clever don't you boy? Flying on your motorcycle Watching all the ground beneath you drop You'd kill yourself for recognition Kill
false move and ill be back in the yard,(This is for my thugs) If i had a choice i wouldn't do it again Ill unload the clip and conversate with my friend
When this song come on in the club) (Ya better get out the way) (Stacks on deck) (S.O.D. money gang entertainment) (Soulja boy soulja boy soulja boy tell
Oh you disrespectin the House of God with that thing on It don't even look real; aww, it's testimony time Oh who is that? Young Chris Bridges Boy I'm
hoe (ass hoe) And where my thug niggas at (there they go, there they go) [Lil' Zane] You see we real niggas (real niggas) And confrontation make us kill niggas (kill
my publishin ain't shit for free I get that big bread, I'm making big chips You get killed at the beginnin' I get them big strips I got my converse
[Intro: conversation] [Chiddy:] Yo what up. [Xaphoon:] Doin' good, how you doin'? [Chiddy:] Chillin' man, chillin', sleepin all day. [Xaphoon:] [laughs
up inside the 23rd century, Given the best of "B" Evidently this is real Put it On Baby Feel, lets do this Studio grimy !!Quick!! for i get killed
Like a rule boy, I play with the tool boy, And I hear when you die ya body get cool boy I rather win da war insteada makin da news boy I been hustlin
came to get him The feeling was the worst feeling that she could possibly be feeling Stood up and then I yelled out, "Why in the hell did you kill him?" I didn't kill
see my motherfuckin' driver, he's a white boy As I bail down the street with my khakis creased Everybody looking at me look like the police Havin' conversations
spreading? I've been answering machines All night Now the doctors dancing in While the ambulances sing Another boy Without a sharper knife The moment that's where I kill the conversation
catch up like mayonnaise, um. I'm the sickest nigga doin it, Bet that baby. These other niggaz dope, I'm wet crack baby, yes. Get back get back boy it
a heat under the seat It ain't like I ain't never seen a gun before It ain't even like I never had to run before But you don't really wanna kill me You
