Throw My Life Away

[Intro: Solomon Childs] Yeah... Staten Island... the triz-oops S. Childs! You know? That's right Not for you faggot motherfuckers, anyway You heard me? Fuck ya'll, that's right Not too much to live for, nigga Yeah, get in they ass, son! [Chorus 2X: Solomon Childs] Never been concerned with names I ain't try'nna go up in flames And I ain't try'nna go insane Now, 'fore you motherfuckers throw my life away [Solomon Childs] Welcome to Wild West Brighton, the only borough in New York Killin' Rasco, I paint a bloodbath like Picasso Staten Island G.I., in the pussy, knee high You'se have now been awakened out the coma By the son of a wounded soldier Motherfuckers is dead, smell the aroma That's federal crime, regulators Known to spend a pretty penny with the gun dealers I'll sneak up on your bitch ass, broad day like the killers We get emotional, nigga, don't get scared now, nigga I'm home now nigga with weight like Bonecrusher And I Ain't Never Scared, homey, I'll have ya bitch ass Wheeping and bending down, homey So dress warm, cause the casket, look like it get lonely Straight forward, music for thugs, bloods, crips and killers Try'nna reach us on receivers, Nexus, I come equipped with four fifths That'll give you a seizure, literally, dog, give you a seizure [Chorus 2X] [Solomon Childs] Live amongst snakes and vultures, collateral damage Desert eagle in the hosters, time to rebuild With family superstars on FBI's wanted posters Fuck a bodyguard, I'm purchasing a pair of twin toasters And for the record, there's pork in Hostess With so many trials, I'm try'nna stay focused N.W.O., fuck the world, New World Order Easy nigga, give me order, worth the blood Hold it down, twenty four/seven, and listen pa' Ain't nothing to gain, we got unlimited guns And just cause I'm a pusher, daddy, ain't nothing stopping my bankfunds Guerillas with magnums, listen, get a hole in my paper Or find yourself slumped over, gargling blood like Bill Cosby's son Nothing to lose, parolee on the run, for sure Read about it, in the Metro section, all eyes on the prophet Ya'll niggas better watch the prophet [Chorus 2X] [Outro: Solomon Childs] Yeah, for sure, nigga Yeah, you heard him, that It's gonna be a lot of slow singing The flower bringing, my burglar alarm starts ringing Motherfucker