| Line | Featured Artist |
|---|
| Dark Knight feeling, die, you be a hero or live long enough to see yourself become a villain... | |
| Let the rain wash away all the pain of yesterday, I know my kingdom awaits and they’ve forgiven my mistakes... | |
| Until my death, I'm Bangladesh I suggest you hold yo breath till ain't none left... | |
| Nuts they go, macadamia, they go so ballistic, whoa, we can make them look like bozos he's wondering if he should spit this slow... | |
| My flow's untouchable now you gotta face it, uh oh, it gets worse when I go back to the basics... | |
| Vice behind me on the intersection, sex and drugs, my anthology on perfection... | |
| It's manifested, the Gods work like appliances, dealin' in my cypher I revolve around science... | |
| How much they hate it? Very. Kiss girls like Katy Perry, I am never sprung but I spring her, Jerry... | |
| See my heart just falls out when you walk in the door, friendship turns into lust and this only tip... | |
| Take a few shots, let it burn in your chest, we could ride down, pumpin' N.E.R.D in the deck, funny how a few words turned into sex... | |
| Wild, wild, west coast, these are the girls I love the most... | |
| | Line | Featured Artist |
|---|
| But you shouldn't have tried to play me, now I bet you hate me, told you girl let's go, but said you act like you aint hearing me... | |
| Oooh, that’s that fire, that’s that have you calm ****, you with a lot of dudes, that’s that Elton John ****... | |
| Whether Beamer, Benz, or Bentley, I be movin', I be movin' making movies Tom Cruise'n, if its action than I'm shootin'... | |
| Now I'm Chi-town born and I'm Chi-town bred, call me westside Lu but I know about them northside blues and them southside reds... | |
| 22's on a brand new coupe with no roof, a hundred and fifty dollar tennis shoes, no suits... | |
| One foot on the world when, I'm behind in my smoke, in the back burner, you can just simmer around... | |
| Oh, the quiet silence defines our misery, the riot inside keeps trying to visit me, no matter how we try, it’s too much history... | |
| I love your sushi roll, hotter than wasabi, I race for your love, shake and bake, Ricky Bobby... | |
| Gotta spit for the murderas, and the killers, and the thugstas, that be ****' up the ballers, and the dealers, and the hustlers... | |
| I can't stop loving you... | |
| You see my baby over hit the road, where she’s going I swear nobody knows, I need to find her before another man does, I wouldn’t want him to steal my love... | |
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