Tekster:
King Blues The Blood On My Hands

my life away To a government that oppressed me. No, I won?t have blood on my hands For the sake of the economy. But I won't give my life away To a government

this whole f**king city Where's the weedman?, when you need them I want hollas from my niggas all around the way (Wuz up Big Blood!) My homie Big Blood

of my walk In a mini-mack eleven, the tone when I talk When I spray, niggas pray, lay on the sidewalk Color blood red, body outlined in chalk My rhymes

"Am I a good man? ..." [Ghostface Killah] Take my hands out my pockets you can see my thumbs Both of them turned green, from countin the ones Memorized

shields of david on top of they post Soft wind blows, breath through my silk blue robe After I feast, fall asleep between my seven pillows Feel my eyes

to my hood Them boys will put you down on your knees (Woop, woop) That's the sound of the police in my hood [Verse 1 - Ludacris] Everybody on the corner

I pray to get my hands 'round The neck of the man wit' the whip 3 months pass, they brand a label on my ass To signify, owned I'm on the microphone

ravioli With tomato sauce and anchovie Spoiled, ah, shit, my blood boiled But, fuck that, I'm ready for open hand combat It's the Tomcat And my thoughts

a bigger ruckus cuz i ball like dem and 1 mufuckas and i keep my hand on my handgun mufuckas u a damn dumb mufucka my thang bang like travis barker on