End Of The Road - Jim Jones
feat.Bun-B, T.I. (T.I. talking) Jim Jones what it is homie Killa Cam, Freekz Zeeky, Juelz whats happ'nin Hey 'a aye... yea yea yea 'a aye T.I.P. nigga y 'a y yeeah. Aye a aye I'm up in Harlem to put it down wit my muthafuckin folks Dipset bitch. A town to muthafuckin NY nigga you already know what it is. Bankhead C-rod, Grand Hustle, Diplomats you dont like it kill yaself nigga. Lets go (verse 1 T.I.) Late night straight white fa ya base pipe No mo quarter O's get ya weight right Crack rock black glock kept it waist height (hey) It hit ya mug you dont imagine what ya face like American pie I'm tellin you guys you want beef wit us well who the fucks preparin you guys We sparin you guys get buried alive What you rushin fa, act like you in a hurry to die Some I let 'em fly 'fore I let that ride I paralize ya like Supermans horseback ride nigga Walk up on ya car and scorch dat ride Flat tires, glass shattered wit a corpse inside A town break down straight pounds of dro' Still deal if you want 10 birds or mo Pimp Squad, Dipset I know ya heard before If we called you a bitch you deserved it hoe. Aye (verse 2 Jim Jones) I cop bricks of the crack (dat yayo) And take it to my block, strip or my trap, my block strip is so trapped Cops quick wit a strap, and you'll be scared shitless How they where the big fifth and load up flares and biscuits I'll take ya bitch from you, bring her back wit smeared lipstick (She Mine) You can compare ballistics, but it's mere physics (Pimpin) I'm 2-3's on drops, I used to play hoopties on blocks plottin man like who he gon pop In this tragic city, now I'm Bankheadin 4 tens headin down in ATL's Magic City Yes the stash is pretty, and the mag hold 50 We take ova towns, then send the Rovers 'round Lookin fa hoes to pound, ya local hoochie spot Lookin fa hoochies hot, to get they coochie popped I love the titty bars, I love my
Artist: Jim Jones
Title: End Of The Road