Mistah FAB - Cry feat. Compton Menace lyrics

rate me

Have me politickin bout the politicians

What the fuck was you rap for 40000 fake ups

And I ain’t even talk about the war

And all the storer hoods that I got love for

And I’m in and out of lanes tryina switch all 6

But I’m steady on the gas, cause some things I can’t fix

But look, nigga know the caper close

Stack paper so I turn the beamer to a ghost

I guess I’m still on that nigga shit

Chains and whip gonn tain a nigga bitch

Have you all sick of a foolish shit

A lot of niggas talk it, but few really do that shit

Hah, fab know I’m really on it

My style gangster and shit, cause I really done it

You got a problem with menace

Well you can tell him...stacking up,

Just minding my bizness, I’m 8 ballin, wassup

Long nights in the lab, writing bout my past

Body full of tats, niggas that past

Nike box full of letter from my comrades

My cousin getting killed, turnt his son into a sav

Guess you are who you are player

Bad grades, strippers from beein ball players

Still made dough like the ball players

Lawyers paid off, anticipated the fall later

I speak the truth, when y’all lying

The death of america ...

Can’t hit the hood man, without the lost pioneer

Time I hit the hood, I hear about my dogs dying

Don’t know where to stop, don’t know where to go

Got shot, no hospital, he on parole

And that would be a violation for sure

And back to saint quinton, he don’t wanna go.