in da wind

, hah, haha, that's just the sound of the hen'. true story. buddy roe. they say tell the truth, shane and them, thank god for the thugs too. drop the top and let the sunshine in, with the woodgrain, let the twinkies spin, get you a glass, mix the coke and the hen', it's quite alright, with the 'dro in the wind, with the 'dro in the wind, i'm a ol' sneaky, ol' freaky, ol' geechy-ass nigga, collard green, neckbone-eatin-ass nigga, always wearin my jeans baggy saggy, you know florida, georgia, south cakalaky, growed up eatin spam sandwiches, sugar water and mayonnaise sandwich, share the room with bout four mo' brothers, but one home for 'em and wattn't no mo' covers, a little bad motherfucker, always rude and always in trouble, none of my teachers ain't like me, but make it so bad, pearl had seven mo' like me, if you growed up the way i did, you gotsta understand, trick love the kids, trick love the kids, cop me a seven-tres chevy, put dubs on that bitch, candy-apple green, niggaz lovin this shit, and when i'm in it, i'll act a fool, ya don't like how i'm livin? bitch fuck you, that's right i'm a rude-ass nigga, quick to do you, cut a fool-ass nigga, weighin' in at bout a buck six-five, and a nigga can fuck, plus the boy gets live, you know legs, wings, and short thighs, eat 'em up, beat 'em up, then switch sides, hot whore work her sean john velour to the floor, he oughta enjoy, with the loaded four-four, be sure and acquire more 'fore ya fuck with mine, disrespect; i'll disconnect ya line, with a sick swat, when shit's hot, ya get shot, the fire, the fury, ya fuck with it not, ya stoppin the grace, get out my space and my - face, fore me and my ace-a lay down the whole place, recognize, this is the verbalize, surprise, fuckin with me wrong way to wise nigga, hoes, clothes, shows, vogues, golds, big ol' bankrolls, that's all a nigga know, throw yo' elbows, i'm sicker than i suppose, hoes unchose, cuz my jewelry froze, you know how it goes, these young niggaz don't want it like this, go off and get yo' gat, to silence the chit-chat, blast!, so pass, outlast, bout cash, mo' sicky, talk tricky to the trick like trash, lo realer, a go-rilla, flow for mo' scrilla, come clean, lookin mean, but you ain't no killa!, look at what we got; the rims and all the 'dro, the 'dro and all the smoke, my throat, it makes me choke, like a serial killer was squeezin on my throat box, in the cluthces of danger but not a stranger on the block, is it the cheeferry reefer beat blowin my chest up?, beat right from the club try my best not to mess up, a professor of this lyrical thang, i'll take the purist strain, of this slang and inject it into your veins, did your heart stop man? drop-top fame, aviator shades with a rear front face, movin through the dirty at a slow pimps pace, kinda like the turtle and the rabbit in the race, to the finish line, i jump the pair of reeboks, so bright, so fresh, snow white but no socks, then i slip on some of that o with the wings, i'm bustin straight out the path like a three piece, of va-lac-tic, before you slack it, you gotta prepare it and mack it, when your jack it over tragic, not intended for any illegal purposes', it's like anthrax and small pox in surplus to murder us,