Tears Of A Killa - WC, Butch Cassidy

Our Father, Who Art in Heaven, Hallowed Be Thy Name

I bow to you with a heart full of pain

Tear stains, Khaki suited and off the chain

Eyes jaded, straight exhausted from the gist-name

I play it calm but the truth is;

I’m losing my mind, and hoping you can help me through this

All these snitches, punk tricks, Cheddar twisting

Phony-ass niggaz in this Record Business

Hold down, now let me take my handkerchief and tie it around me

Lake it or pancake it, then slide on my bounties

Ride on, grind on, say a prayer with my strap

Hit the street and get mines on

Bring new heat, swing through streets;

I want it but can’t stop

Chopping and moving this D, I’m in too deep

Ándele Ándele, rips and dime moves, build with a nigga

Feel the tears of a killer

I got the blues, how shall I be loose?

Which row to choose, something confuse

La la la la la la la

(Tears of a Killer, my life, the tears of a Killer)

Can’t go away, with no delay

Back in the day, my mind was made just astray

La la la la la la la

(Tears of a Killer, my pain, the tears of a Killer)

Dear Mr. President, Chief of Police, the DA Firm

The Judge of the Commonwealth, this concerns

I’m from the Bandanna Empire

Just one of the many of young riders caught at the crossfire

A product of my environment, rip riders and bloods

But to your perceive, that’s a thug

But in all actuality, we’re two of the same kind

Cause your war ain’t no different that mines

We’re both wave a flag signs

Nigga that what’s the difference, we do drive-bys, you do fly-bys

Ring the alarm, show me the info’s of One Time Swarmy

Cause like Ali said Fuck your Army!

I’d rather slang Fuck All Y’all

Cause the President ain’t never took a trip to my hood

And around here, we’ve been at war for years

Feel the tears!

You know what I’m saying?

It ain’t nothing but my pain, it ain’t nothing but my pain

My struggle, your struggle, tears — of a killer!

Uhh!

now this is for them niggaz from around the way

Cooking work up and getting it, my holster affiliates

Little homies, big homies, kins

That meet my niggaz find lives in them level four penitentiaries

Trust me dog, though my poster is on the wall

I ain’t forgot, I still got love for y’all

Though haters wanna adjust me, cause my wrist is crispy

Please believe it, these cameras don’t mean shit to me

Side by side, we’re all used the same blights

Came up together from the same bytes

Riding on the back of the Ice Cream trucks and gold cars

Then when the money came in, done fucked over the whole cards

Now, it’s every nigga for his self, cut throats

Damn!

Loc, where did the love go?

On behalf of the Gs rested in peace, I had to speak on it

Together we’re the shit, don’t sleep on it