Tekster:
O Children Fault Line

the fault line and I'm looking for a long time sick of hiding like a chameleon out of the dark night on the bright light On the fault line and I'm looking

die Split up and fry, open his eyes [unverified] pop Shot one through his head Oh my, oh my, now look what you made me do, this nigga dead It ain't my fault

apon these motherfuckin' streets Poising your own breed turning you from jesus Get you out your faith and hit your ass with diseases And now you can't reproduce there goes your children

with his children Bitch, I keeps it real! [Hook] [Layzie] I keep my mind on my money, my money on my mind A straight up soldier in the field out here pushin my line

with his children Bitch, I keeps it real! [Hook] [Layzie] I keep my mind on my money, my money on my mind A straight up soldier in the field out here pushin my line

[[Spoken: Transmitted.... signals coming through? .....okay. ]] echo echo one-nine hear the call through fault lines smoke signals, old rhymes shorted

with his children Bitch, I keeps it real! [Hook] [Layzie] I keep my mind on my money, my money on my mind A straight up soldier in the field out here pushin my line

his children Bitch, I keeps it real! [Hook] [Layzie] I keep my mind on my money, my money on my mind A straight up soldier in the field out here pushin my line