Lyrics Sheet Music (feat. Sean Price & Havoc) - Gangrene , haVoc , Sean Price
930,
33rd
Gangrene,
uh
They
say
the
boy's
old
school
WWF,
I
will
smack
a
fucking
chair
to
that
little
ass
chest
You
outta
breath?
That
means
you
needin'
some
rest
Have
a
seat,
literal
I'm
yellin'
to
the
crowd
and
they
screamin'
to,
"Get
ready,
you"
And
I
don't
need
the
cage
or
the
rings
I'm
from
the
gang
that
goes
bang
in
your
dreams
So
keep
dreamin'
like
you're
gaugin'
your
sleep
So
I
can
see
what
you
thought
on
your
sheets
I
call
it
sheet
music
Like
the
cat
on
that
sheet
movin'
The
sleek
movement,
they
seep
into
it
I
see
what
you're
doing,
you're
sick
I
see
through
it,
like
a
live
leak
to
a
filmin'
From
a
local's
phone
I
choke
your
focus
gone
Like
hocus
pocus
and
a
locust
swarm
The
only
way
you
hearing
the
buzz
Over
the
music
that
they
play
in
the
clubs
Shit,
send
in
the
thugs,
baby,
show
me
some
love
I
see
the
haters,
they
ain't
fuckin'
with
us
(They
ain't
fuckin'
with
us)
No,
never
doubted
I'm
better
at
it,
you
little
fuck
Whoever
ratted
got
bullet
tatted
to
full
advantage
I'm
laughin'
at
it,
tryna
find
a
little
good
in
us
Good
luck,
motherfucker,
night-night
motherfucker
Smoke
blunts,
you
know
the
black
is
potent
Coke,
don't
front,
you
know
I
got
you
open
At
lunch
with
the
snakes
and
the
pigeons,
front
Get
punched
in
your
face
for
livin'
Listen,
I've
been
here
wig,
you've
seen
this
riddle
My
dreams
is
big,
my
crib
is
little
Living
in
the
Ville
is
risky
Niggas
green
with
envy
but
I'm
Bill
Bixby,
uh
Mr.
McGee
don't
get
me
angry
You
wouldn't
like
it
when
I'm
angry,
listen
P
New
Lou
Ferrigno
Big
bullets
that
shoot
through
you
and
your
kinfolks
Route
from
Helter,
.9
clapped,
spine
tapped,
and
fuck
your
felt
up
Stuffed
to
the
wack
boy
Biggest
nigga
in
my
group,
buffering
the
fat
boy,
P
Never
doubted
I'm
better
at
it,
you
little
fuck
Whoever
ratted
got
bullet
tatted
to
full
advantage
I'm
laughin'
at
it,
tryna
find
a
little
good
in
us
Good
luck,
motherfucker,
night-night
motherfucker
I'm
crumblin'
the
dope,
two
G's
in
a
bucket
A
big
bundle
for
the
rope,
twenty
G's
for
the
nugget
Doing
slalom's
in
the
slope,
my
machinery's
rugged
Your
pussy
worth
a
shit-stain,
bikini
is
muddy
Break
levee
when
I
rain
through
the
vicinity,
flooded
So
I
could
test,
my
humour's
get
canoed
This
is
only
a
small
portion,
I'm
giving
you
a
snippet
view
Trailer
visual,
sick
of
the
salmonella
chicken
flu
My
creative
juice
come
from
a
different
fruit
But
when
you
sip
it
strong
like
Guinness
brew
Spill
blood
on
your
tennis
shoe
Before
I
bless
chalice,
I
use
a
paperclip
to
scrape
the
residue
Stickman,
get
the
money,
take
the
revenue
Theme
music
for
you
to
push
the
Lambourghini
pedal
to
Explode
a
grenade
and
pieces
of
metal
flew
Collateral
damage,
aim
for
the
torso,
but
the
leg
will
do
Never
doubted
I'm
better
at
it,
you
little
fuck
Whoever
ratted
got
bullet
tatted
to
full
advantage
I'm
laughin'
at
it,
tryna
find
a
little
good
in
us
Good
luck,
motherfucker,
night-night
motherfucker
Motherfucker
Oh
Jesus
why
don't
you
give
to
my
advertisin'
After
you
give
me
the
main
course
Well,
what
the
fuck
kind
of
shit
is
that?
That's
crazy
shit,
man
And
Al
Pacino's
like,
"Where
the
fuck
you
goin',
good
officer?"
I
don't
give
a
shit
Uh,
I'm
confused,
because
uh
You
figure
it
out,
I'm
gettin'
out
of
here!
(No)
And
I'm
gonna
wear
my
sunglasses
out
here,
you
know
why?
Because
women
have
short
skirts
and
then
they
feel
violated
When
I
look
at
them,
why?
Because
I
have
sunglasses
on,
and
I'm
weird
All
those
people
who
called
me
a
sleepwalker
I
woke
up,
now
I'm
going
back
to
sleep
as
I
am
A
fuck-up,
goodbye
1 The Filth (Intro)
2 Reversals
3 Sheet Music (feat. Sean Price & Havoc)
4 Flamethrowers Pt. 2
5 The Man with the Horn
6 Better Things
7 Driving Gloves (feat. Action Bronson)
8 Gluttony (feat. Your Old Droog & Fashawn)
9 The Scrapyards
10 Noon Chuckas
11 Just for Decoration (feat. Evidence & Chuck Strangers)
12 Hazardous Materials
13 The Hidden Hand
14 Hot Pillow
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