Cry

Lyrics

[Verse 1: T-Rock] Lord Infamous hit me up and I'm back in here So it's the end for you niggas like an acronym We roll deeper than my fans at a colosseum Niggas get buried and mortified in a mausoleum Feel the wrath of a nigga rapidly blastin' ya My scavengers will leave you leakin' like a dirty cadaver This is armagheddon, souls cry, it's a massacre Protect yo neck, I'm goin' for the shit like I was dracula [Verse 2: II Tone] I ain't never liked to follow, so I always been a leader Learn to rock it up and (?) the block and stank my Velveeta Lord down that I'm gone, what the fuck you mean (?) Got a house full of guns, better pray for all yo sin Heart cold like a freezer cause my house hot as hell Shit, I'm doin' what I'm doin', give a fuck about jail Everybody got a pound, that's a roadtrip, better follow If you cross Black Rain you'll never see tomorrow [Verse 3: Mac Montese] You know we show off so everytime I go off I crack yo fuckin' head if you think that I'm a hoe dog I'm with my road dogs, that's II Tone and T-Rock And Infamous be on some more shit, he likes to ball off Black Rain take change away from all these damn lames And if you wanna play games We leave yo ass with blood stains You really wanna try, better be ready for homicide I'm on a mission and get ya like I play them (?) suicide [Verse 4: Slim Money] I ain't scared, I ain't scared, I'm a (?) scared Niggas claim to be real when they really doin' (?) It's hard to be a angel when you surrounded by demons Niggas tryin' to do me pain and knowin' I'm a lyrical genius Call me ... on this road trail blaze Catch me at the white house, outside the (?) Get a dose of my world rage, turn yo shit to a (?) Whole click murderous, you don't wanna fuck with us [Verse 5: Big Cheese] [Verse 6: Lord Infamous] BLAY! Fill yo bitch with this snow yo, pump her like some petrol Dick hard as (?), nympho on some techno Coke, snow, dope, blow, spear nose, pitch fork Volcanic, satanic, manic flow, overdose Trigger finger steroid flex bitch, pressure vest Give a fuck less, Wild West with a Smith & Wess' Butcher with a hooker, give yo mammy some of that sugar I'm the man they call the boogy, call me the Jr. full of booger sugar