Yo

Yo c'mon son

Yo they killin em out there son

They dyin out there son, word up

Yo they killin us son, I'm tellin you

Y'all niggas c'mon that's my word

Y'all better c'mon

Yo wake up son

They dyin son

Yo, c'mon nigga, wake up

C'mon



It took me 24 years to figure out what makes this world go round

It's not man holding ground with dope sound

We gots to ask

Why do you feel that a meal can make you ill

When you know that Broke Bill can still

See right through your plastic ass

Before crack was a sport and we had thoughts of getting busy

Before death left, and fame had his way

The town: Brownsville

The place: The Ill

Follow the trail of resh blood drips you'll end up on my bricks

The Marks:

Home of the warrior thrown home

Our true thugs that's dead and gone

In the hills most effective chrome

Return to these graves

Showin youngsters what I'm facin

Cause we had trouble

We been strugglin since single shot gauges

That's straight ghetto bad luck

But, I done passed up more shit

Than you may ever touch

What, we on sacred grounds

Without the guidance of our fathers

All we know is how to double clutch revolvers

Me and my own staff flaunt a different path

I'm tryin to dip shit minus in your highness

The finest of kickin half

Honest to god, I'm layin down my card

It's been hard, for too many years

Blood sweat and tears



These 3 words

(Man got somethin to say)

Blood, sweat, tears

(MOP Family)

These 3 words

(We went to the death, we knew he was dead and gone)

Blood, sweat, tears

(We comin all the way from New York City, hear me out)

These 3 words

Blood, sweat, tears-a