You limited like the spread of traffic You bite my style off the radio So when you speak you bet I hear the static You better chill out like, Chuck, I kick like
even when I was close to defeat, I rose to my feet My life's like a soundtrack I wrote to the beat Treat my rap like Cali weed, I smoke ?til I sleep
ass DJ I'd be like If I was Jam Master J I'd be like If I was a cheap clock radio I'd be like "Tune that motherfucker in" If I was Barry White I'd be like
I've got a car that's mine alone That me and the finance company own A ready made pile of manufactured grief And if I ain't out of gas in the pouring
, GTO That's right, we do it like that Keith Turbo, the new man Here we go Move in close range with the ARTCC Air Route Traffic Control Center I freeze
I like to punish niggaz Slow your roll like a traffic jam It's that nigga with a frown turned upside down I keep it rough nigga style I walk the
' back 3, 6, 5, 2, 4, 7, I got Jumbo Jacks Would you like your cheese with that? Yeah, I like my cheese with that Crack in the box round the clock Open
The air here tastes like poison The traffic moves on broken roads The river runs like silver My own feelings let me down She's 14 and she's fading There
That just give fiends time to detox Long as I got air in my lungs I'm a blow out my ops I'm a Ruff Ryde till enough fry, I'm stronger than mudslides I
? The Dope Boys in the building. Verse 2 ------ You couldn't smell that crack comin' out that motherf**king Porsche truck. I stop traffic with the rims that I
air. I'm tired in a way that I can't explain, can't remember the last time I felt the rain, I write in the dark because I don't need to see, I'm not
s banks Like Noah reaching higher ground I?d offer up my thanks Cause I?m a stranger here No one you would know I?m just passing through I am therefore I
i heard niggas comin thought i saw the cop lights but, i was dreamin, then i woke the junkies was fiendin, and i had coke so, i had hope ya may say that
the worthless I'm not depressed, man, I'm just a fucking New Yorker Who knows that sittin' in traffic with these bastards is torture I'll be in a jalopy
I said, ?Goodbye and I'll go far? And I said, with my plastic Jesus I said sitting on the dashboard of my car When I'm goin' fornicatin', I've got my
club like we never left If you ain't with it Shorty get gone. Does anybody know how to make it rain? We keep that carpet green in the city The saddle in the traffic
beer Muddy, like a motherfucking hog pen Banging Pac "Makaveli", play that number eight again Time go by, puffing on high I'm feeling too fly, and that ain't even high See I