I Made It (feat. Trick Trick)

This is the tales of the dark side
 I park right in front of your spot
 Put a hole in your car right
 I never been playing like they told
 That I lean over that passenger side
 It ain't rovin' while it's golden, I give you hoes a makeover
 Pole pose a shit and his arms a break your both of them
 And I'm a dash faster than locomotive
 I can trespassing a ram shaking
 Murder your families and it ain't no closure
 I cast snatcher, I stop all type of transactions
 When I get back on the block these niggers mashing
 I got the world in my palm and I'm a smash it
 Sprinkle the ashes in the atmosphere
 I'm just an animal, pass it enough to grab the back of your neck
 And stuff your face in a half of cake
 Force you to take a breath, I could care less about who you be
 Or what you do for the community
 We taking it over I'm on a shootin' spree
 Time and time again I get it, speak your hustling, I get it
 I get it, what? I get it, what? I get it, yes I get it
 Whenever I drop the line they faded
 Single top of the world I made it
 I made it, what? I made it, what?
 Taking over this bitch and y'all hate it
 It's the return of the aggravated assault-slash-robbery
 Possession with intent to deliver federal property
 Another assault with intent to great bodily
 And I ain't pleading guilty to shit, and won't cop a plea
 Three strikes in and motherfuck the fourth
 Continue to take the fifth and I ain't going to court
 Then life an outlaw on the run, with g-shit to do
 I ever get caught I'm a fourth degree habitual
 Just for me splittin' and everyday ritual, 74 stitches
 Just from me trippin' you, your blood bleeds your ass, I'm a a show what Trick Trick'll do
 Nigga you don't want it with me and I ain't shitting with you
 Up top D cap one and black tees no holster, 30 round clip the black squeeze
 Ver-ses smell proof, looking like black cheese
 I'm backing these rap niggers up with a rap sheet
 Pacquiao punches, Mayweather swag
 Mike Tyson attitude, Ali Jabs
 Back at the lab, cookin' up shit
 Fuck your yellow pages, you ain't looking up shit
 Convict lunatic, no gang banger
 Throw the towel in like Apollo Creed's trainer
 Suck everybody's dick, you ain't got no choice
 I ain't T-Pain but I do something to your voice
 AK47, I shoot up your crib, get your ass in the house like Michael Jackson's kid
 Trick trick and D12, click click and see shells
 5 o'clock news catch the details
 And fuck weed, nigga I'm on angel dust
 I got some talk that makes Rosa Parks get off the bus
 And god forbid if I ever get shot
 Give me 6 Vicodin and Michael Jackson's doc
 Time and time again I get it, speak your hustling, I get it
 I get it, what? I get it, what? I get it, yes I get it
 Whenever I drop the line they faded
 Single top of the world I made it
 I made it, what? I made it, what?
 Taking over this bitch and y'all hate it
 It's best to shut your mouth up
 Bullets flying through your window
 Hit your pit-bull, split your sister and your spouse up
 Gotta keep the hustle going, a shady fuckin' omen
 Hollows rip your shirt like Hulk Hogan with his muscles showin'
 We on the paper route, if he ain't talking right, take him out
 I don't need cameras when I fade'em out
 Get your patron mob, Trick Trick boom squad
 D12 loonie chop, shooting from the roof top
 Gotta keep the green up, you can tell I'm seeing stuff
 Making mess with you the corner player cleaned up
 Do it for the gusto, what up, doh?
 You a bitch you nigga, you can take it how you want like a slut ho
 If it ain't about that bread then I ain't listening
 If she ain't talking about head then ain't kicking it
 Way worst than EST about my dividends
 To finish you off in the hospital while I'm visiting
 Time and time again I get it, speak your hustling, I get it
 I get it, what? I get it, what? I get it, yes I get it
 Whenever I drop the line they faded
 Single top of the world I made it
 I made it, what? I made it, what?
 Taking over this bitch and y'all hate it