“strike the match”
[22 seconds instrumental]
i’m loaded like a shotgun. – got one – under my coat!
it’s late night, no stage fright. – i’m going for broke
while i’m hittin’ my smoke.
i’m contemplatin’ how to hit ’em hard, hit ’em fast, get away; it’s all she wrote!
it’s a heartbreaking habit, when you gotta have it
you grab it! – stare at an alb*m, so good at it!
certified hood magic! – look at it!
throwin’ too much in your face. – and money’s gone; so am i so long?
but now my hustle’s changed. – no more stickin’ you up!
i’ve got some weed, i know that for sure; that can pick you up!
just spark it up! i got a dime or a twenty sack!
all sales are final. – don’t ask for your money back!
don’t even look at the money, stack! – it’s funny that
it still wasn’t enough, i’m like still searchin’ for honey flack!
no i’m servin’ the boulders, looking over my shoulders!
every step that i take – a rock might knock me over!
strike – the match! – sparks – the flame!
it starts – the fire that burns down the system!
hit ’em hard! hit ’em fast! – keep the gas on ’em!
we’re gonna char! – get the dogs, go gas on ’em!
the hoodrange – a brace to be a gangster
they grew up! – and blew up the rock stages!
a long way from the gate, but i got gauges!
dumb ’em out! pullin guns out on strangers!
a bunch a wild n*gg*s, n*body can tame us!
the sixteen in the clip. – one in the chamber!
drive-by’s, homicide; sh*t! i gotta roll a dime!
every day i ran away, my life’s one columbine.
and i’d like to see heads get [? ]
so it’s a problem? – that’s how i solve ’em, there’s no discussion!
go for my mind, tell it’s task force, rush ’em!
until the day all i gotta say – is: “f*ck ’em! ”
post it on the top son! – claw some!
makin’ my way throught the jungle, and then they like i call something!
[? ] hustle, the streets need
to a hit single, put down b*tch, [? ] bring a leader!
when you’re in the top spot, you better be top notch;
or not watch, the haters take pop shots!
it’s non-stop sh*t talkin’, [? ] the conflict
whoever slick talkin’, i’m ready to harm him!
disarm him! – send his *ss away in a coffin
my game is [? ], you don’t seein’ it that often!
but every [? ] day i felt time slip away
like a heavy ticket on the train to an early grave!
i never worried hater, that what happens, i’m okay!
reap what you sough! – and every kinda game you play
never had a handout! – had my hustle’s brand out!
[? ] brand out! you wish my luck would run out!