Headstone

Victory, victory

Gold on my neck, Mr. T

Victory, victory

Zombie gang reppin' that NYC

Victory, victory

Ice round my neck like I'm Lil Weeze

We run this *******t like a pair of cleats

It's hell on earth with this rap beat

Money over ******* on my headstone

Here lies young ***** gettin' paper

Never take a loss on my headstone

Only take a L when I'm smokin' it

Zombie gang three times on my headstone

Been thuggin', from the cradle to the grave

Now your favorite rapper name on a headstone

Too late, he already dead

Imagine when you're thirty thousand feet up

What you think of?

Boy, I hated knowin'

That my thoughts would turn to dreams

'Cause I never knew I'd get my chance to link up

Boy, I tell you, all of this unusual to me

Swear I came from the bottom,

Flatbush livin', walkin' dead on

But your favorite rapper's name up on a headstone

Biggie Big for the cheese and you're dead wrong

Propaganda set the standards in the terror dome

I hit it doggystyle, she throw it back

Yeah, I'm born to mack

It's dark in Hell, it's hot so leave me where I'm at

I'm livin' how I wanna, no reasonable doubt

It's clear to see, all eyez on me, four hundred degrees

Who am I? Ruthless, easy does it

The chronic, smoke it in public, hate it or love it

The underdogs, with liquid swords

It was written in my diary to start a war

I'm feelin' infamous, immortal with my technique

A revolutionary *******nin', with diamond teeth

Young don, Cartagena, excuse my demeanor,

This the glamour life

You still not a player, you ain't half as nice

I'm born to kill, life after death, I made the sacrifice

I'm super duper fly, Juice'll keep them hypnotized

I said my name is Juice, America's most

Ain't no half-steppin', see you at the crossroads

Money over ******* on my headstone

Here lies young ***** gettin' paper

Never take a loss on my headstone

Only take a L when I'm smokin' it

Zombie gang three times on my headstone

Been thuggin' from the cradle to the grave

Now your favorite rapper name on a headstone

Too late, he already dead

It was written in a children's story,

That life's a *******

So what you want? Everyday I struggle with it

Only god can judge me slippin', I'm infinitely big pimpin'

Though the genesis, dead presidents, drop a gem on them

Hell on earth, these the last days, throw your guns up

Get money, Quiet Storm, havin' suicidal thoughts

For the C.R.E.A.M, renegade

For the money, only green is the lemonade

I'm a player on the late night tip, shorty triple six

She the prototype, Tip drill, kiss the fingertips

Resevoir Dogs, check the scar, ignorant *******t

Blackout, can I live? Hell raiser, still feel me

Kiss of death, reprotect ya neck

Three **** boyz in a Cadillac, Gravediggaz

Kiss of death, reprotect ya neck, shame on a *****

Three **** boyz in a Cadillac, Gravediggaz

Money over ******* on my headstone

Here lies young ***** gettin' paper

Never take a loss on my headstone

Only take a L when I'm smokin' it

Zombie gang three times on my headstone

Been thuggin' from the cradle to the grave

Now your favorite rapper name on a headstone

Too late, he already dead

Right now I'm on the edge, so don't push me

Troublesome since '96, you a shook one

Breath easy on the ledge, I'ma push ya

What's that? I smell *******

Let me count my guns, hum

5,4,3,2,1 run

Hi my name is Dirt Cobain

Like a pimp, here I go to the next episode

Ain't another ***** this explosive, beastcoast *******t

BRR-BRR reload it

***** them other *****s, ride or die for my *****s

Strictly for my *****s, survival of the fittest

Woo-woo! That's the sound of the police

I'm in deep cover, skrr skrr

Leaned back, give me one more chance

They say Jesus walks and the Devil wear Prada

But I'm so, so deaf, God can't tell me nothing

Records on my death certificate, I gave you power

21 questions, like who shot ya? I shot ya!

Warning, watch them *****s fla*******n' like papparazi

Two words, ***** *******, get money

Tonight's the night, guess who's back on my block

Rather you need dollar, get shot in Bucktown

This firearm, silencer on, that quiet storm

T-O-N-Y, top of New York, with a pitchfork