Texty:
Drive By The Hand That Cuts

Either way, we gotta get out of this town I just want to count on you Whenever I am down It's the hand that cuts The heart that's opening Your tears

now Either way, we gotta get out of this town I just want to count on you Whenever I am down It's the hand that cuts The heart that's opening Your tears

clutchin' your chest suckin' Your last breath, in awe, period Meth Nigga, dyin' from paper cuts, bleedin' to death Down these mean streets Johnny Quest From ASCAP to NASDAQ get that

What a situation Senses gone and left me Lies are like confetti on the floor Words are leading nowhere Delicate and tender Tenterhooks that drive me

Fives, who drive Millineums It's all about the Benjamins, what? I get a fifty pound bag of ooh for the mutts Five carats on my hands wit the cuts

-free Handed down the game by that nigga Ice-T No doubt players like me recognise the great King Tee, about twenty grand a ki Ah, that's that G shit,

and clip and never rest Until your haircut looks its best (pic of Prairie Dawn-like muppet driving a bus) The bus driver drives fast or slow To

spend That you would make a legend or a monument I'm not souped up, or a pooh-butt I only lay my voice on a track that pooh cuts A beat is like food

at the core crafted by hands of lords Violence filled with fury lightning strikes now it has arrived, As it drives This is the storm, the storm that