Bleeding from the Mouth

Trackmasters Nigga L.O.X, CNN I been through, runnin' from cops, eatin' beef on the corner Been through cold cells, thug in the bench, the rap performer I been put the Mack upon ya, look faggot Turn around to shshshsh, to shoot faggots I been a star since Pat Benetar CNN, Lox the type of shit that have you fleein' a rock I been put the key in a lock Who got a song, hot a Capone And Nore copped the Benz, first day home I been beatin' niggaz up, been spittin' on hoes Thinkin' they too good for hood niggaz Been in my zone Been the champ since Larry Holmes, Spinks had teeth And in a forbuilding, been had 'em reppin' the street Caught 'em wide over Y.O, first felony Solo Eightball and MJG What is you tellin' me Yo, yo I got guns, guns Mad fuckin' guns, ha I had them hundreds when you had them little ones, ha But fuck that, live niggaz, In rap And you can catch me with a Teletubbie Holdin' my gat Yo, I'm a soldier, what You a soldier, Nigga infact A wow, niggaz from suddenly just settin' a trap I murder you, the niggaz fiend Just fiend to attack You shut the tunnel down twice like militant night We at the club tonight, Nore yo Please be nice I buy the bar out Crystal, no glass, no ice I drink it straight from the bottle, And I spit on a ho Ayyo, you boned that bitch Naw I pissed on a ho Melvin Flynt, exclusive new shit Yo, you better tell 'em you heard 'it on this Track Masterz [ Jadakiss] + (Noreaga) Yo, yo, You only need a gun and some crack to get you a stack (L.O.X., CNN, Y.O. to Iraq) Luxury cars, twenty thous, thugged out the bar (House on the hill, and my niggaz blowin' for real) Store in the hood, my niggas go to war and we good We just thugged out hustlers, tourin' the hood We the deepest niggaz out (the streetest niggaz out) L.O.X. and CNN will leave you bleedin' from the mouth I learned at a young age Not to ride with dummies That won't die for they man But 'ell die for money And if the L.O.X. get rich We goin' divide the money Where we from we stay live And survivin' hungry Don't pass me a blunt But you can pass me a gun And you can have that pretty bitch, Right after I cum And you can front and keep your watch We goin' puncture a lung L.O.X. style Cocksucker Dump and we run All our dogs up in the slums Humpin' they chums Holdin' they pits Lightin' blunts Loadin' they shit And niggaz can't understand, that we married the street And when we felt like we were cheatin' We ain't carryin' our heat And we don't like holdin' nothing But we carry a beef Hopin' ya family stay strong Then they can carry the grief You break bread with a thief And then you scarry to sleep And we ain't tryin' to bury you We tryin' to bury a jeep What What What, what, what What What What, what, what