Luyện nghe bài hát People

in my pocket.
in my wallet.
If you 'bout my profit,
All I see is people.
All I see is people.
You so when my momma tryna make a couple dollars,
Any nigga with a problem, they be over dead people.
dead people.

This shit deep.
Don't with me.
You end up six deep.
to how I did it.
I crept up on Willow.
'bout climbin' through the fuckin' window.
In the backseat, burners.
Ski mask, bag, duct tape, and a pillow.
In the solo.
Sittin' low with the out.
Feelin' like Manson on Sonny Sam shit.
With a murder on my mind my mind on the homicide,
And my watch they outta time.
Somebody die, bottom line.
page, column nine.
Headline: Columbine.
I plan and plot and strategized, and thought it.
up everything in the closet.
My is to get bloody.
They can beg and plead, and scream.
Try to leave, get in cheese, pray to God on they knees, but I'm still fucking ugly.
I love it.
Took this nigga by his throat and fuckin' cut it and nothin' of it.
simple insanity.
Just a fantasy.
It's insanity.
a murderous fantasy of mine.
(Man, I feel killin me a mother fucka.)

Last night, I must've had a choppin up bodies.
Woke up bloody as in the hospital lobby.
filled with adrenaline.
Not rememberin what I did to get all this blood on my Timberlands.
Cop's sayin I did what to
Showin me pictures of cut-up bitches, members with body parts missin.
Listen, I do shit, I don't know shit.
Man, I don't a fuck about that bitch.
Fuck whatever she said, fuck she saw, it wasn't me.
Oh no no, not me.
to the alibi.
I was at the movies, that shit,
With 3-D glasses on,
And shit longer than mother fucka.
Look at my pocket, get the though.
my alibi, bitch.
Now up?
out the cuffs, now I'm back on the outside,
And headed west where reside.
my nigga.
He live on 1st and 48th next to the white chalk in between the yellow tape,
the black gate.
Rottwielers and pitbulls, surrounded by snakes, and AR's.
Some niggas hard to play, some niggas hard
But house right there, don't go in they yard
It's insanity.
a murderous fantasy.
It's insanity.
Just a fantasy of mine.
(Man, I feel killin me a mother fucka.)

Beware of dark shit, shot 'em through the
Tough offensive line men stop the blitz.
Them niggas inside, a kittens
And right here, good riddance.
Nigga fuck around, it's suicide for
the mind of a bullet
Here I come I can smell the flesh for your head or neck.
Nigga, to God I won't hit your chest.
Now here I straight outta drum, headed for your lungs.
You in my sight.
The last one do it right,
And I'm waitin.
Just at you.
Thinkin it and gettin tired of lookin at you.
Hi, daddy, me?
Goodbye, daddy, is what it gotta be.
You brought me in this world, now I'm you out.
Now you up your muthafuckin mouth.
insanity.
Just a fantasy.
insanity.
Just a fantasy of mine.
(Now I feel killin me a mother fucka.)