true nigga, please do, nigga Betta inquire from a few niggas 'Cause bitch, I done shit on quite a few and quieted a few niggas Get a grip, dead four
comin for you Three, four, Tecca's at your door Five, six, got guns and clips Seven, eight, they seld your faith One, two, GP's comin for you Three, four
The Masta, the Ase-Inc Lost is the ghetto dweller trapped in a cage There?s no way out of the death trap You can?t come back, back No matter what you
did that shit I know I said I do it alone in the pass, everybody in the neighborhood knew Somebody betta jack his ass up like a six-four impala You floatin
better get to runnin' nigga It's been a long time, I shouldn't have left you Without a rhyme about the nine and what the Tech do The four pound line
one! two! were coming for you. three! four! lock your door. five! six! suck on my dick. brokencyde will never die! (x2) now i can feel the needle break
that Holly grove zoo shit Keep a set of grip plies for ear pair loose slips I done said I was too sick, I said Ia??m too, too sick Four sick, Five sick, Six
ONE! TWO! Were coming for you. THREE! FOUR! Lock your door. FIVE! SIX! Suck on my dick. BROKENCYDE WILL NEVER DIE! (x2) Now I can feel the needle break
a half a acre, need help with the cultivatin' Thirty-percent of the gross, hands me toast, let's roast I got a four-wheeler, no street dealers will mega Cage
Six thirty in the morning, I'd just got to sleep I felt so tired didn't even count sheep I woke up with six policemen standing by the bed The voice of
Check it, yo, yo, yo, yo Stand on the block Reebok gun cocked Avalanche rock get paid off mass murderous services Chef break 'em, watch the alley cats bake 'em Watch the alley cats bake 'em Four
style in the cloud with silver linings Double breasted, bullet proof vested, well protected The heart the rib cage the chest and solar plexus Castin stones, crackin two-hundred and six
is like a rerun So I reach out and try to teach one But eighty-five percent uncivilized content No tolerance so a lifetime is spent behind a cage
what's up Disrespect me, I'll have niggas blast ya up Take my advice, don't let ya peoples grass ya up I got a fetish for the chips, 20's for the six
up Niggas really don't know parts of me pal [Verse 3] One brick, two brick The boy moving weight Now three bricks, four bricks I'm driving upstate Five Bricks, six
claiming I wasn't raw [I have survived] Being shot at and stabbed while on tour [I have survived] Millions of niggas stealing my metaphors For three years, broken down that's thirty six months Twenty six
, Brownsville is heatin' it up, come on Yo, your ego, why still spit lines, that your bitch? Play C low and spit four five's at your six Ya'll really