Lyrics
kickin in the door i make them
Kickin in the door i make them, what a witness saw when we here roll on down your corner block
Pocket full of stones oh boy i gotta track it up, what what what You, what what what
what what what
Ain t no love for pity ain t nobody cut you no deal, bust in with that 45 make them bitches back it up Scared, them bitches hit the floor
Hope you know, man this ain t no radio station boy quit tryin to pump your watch Part, pocket full of stones oh boy i gotta track it up
even though my pockets done got deep they ain t got deep enough
Don t play tomorrows a brighter day i gotta pack it up, pocket full of stones oh boy i gotta track it up
hope you know
Where i m from from the slum niggas shootin a thang, what what what
I think you bitch you scared, the mafia boys we got the toys make you drop it off
You got hustlas dealas bankin every town every field, they was tryin to stop a nigga from doin his thang Mafia, finally got that money man make them bitches sack it up
You scared ho, where i m from from the slum niggas shootin a thang
stand infront of your house
So fucken scared you talkin gahos want it oh want it oh, ain t no gang in my slang do you understand Scared, man this ain t no radio station boy quit tryin to pump your watch
Crunchy black in this bitch i m bout to bring the pain, take it to the spot man now its time to crank it up, everyone i know they do whatever just to get a meal
I think i got them scared, hope you know, you scared ho
So fucken scared you talkin gahos want it oh want it oh, i think that they scared of me Part, crunchy black in this bitch i m bout to bring the pain
Fuckin wit you snitches man don t make me wanna hang it up, what what what, ain t no gang in my slang do you understand
But lookin at a empty plate dont make me wanna keep it up, hypnotize got me gold diggin for the chain Part, i think you bitch you scared
Hypnotize got me gold diggin for the chain, fuckin wit you snitches man don t make me wanna hang it up
Sayin that juicy j fuck you out your record money flop, bust in the bank and make you faint before i knock it off
I think that they scared of me, hear they got that product man make them bitches bag it up, kickin in the door i make
But lookin at a empty plate dont make me wanna keep it up, police yellow tape somebody blood they wipin wit a mop
pocket full of stones oh boy i gotta track it up
creepin carefully through the street
