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WC

Tears Of A Killa

Tears Of A Killa

(album: Ghetto Heisman - 2002)

[Verse 1: W.C.]
Our Father, Who Art in Heaven, Hallowed Be Thy Name
I bow to you with a heart full of pain
Tear stains, Khaki suited and off the chain
Eyes jaded, straight exhausted from the gist-name
I play it calm but the truth is;
I'm losing my mind, and hoping you can help me through this
All these snitches, punk tricks, Cheddar twisting
Phony-ass niggaz in this Record Business
Hold down, now let me take my handkerchief and tie it around me
Lake it or pancake it, then slide on my bounties
Ride on, grind on, say a prayer with my strap
Hit the street and get mines on
Bring new heat, swing through streets; I want it but can't stop
Chopping and moving this D, I'm in too deep
Ándele Ándele, rips and dime moves, build with a nigga
Feel the tears of a killer

[Chorus: Butch Cassidy]
I got the blues, how shall I be loose?
Which row to choose, something confuse
La la la la la la la
(Tears of a Killer, my life, the tears of a Killer)
Can't go away, with no delay
Back in the day, my mind was made just astray
La la la la la la la
(Tears of a Killer, my pain, the tears of a Killer)

[Verse 2: W.C.]
Dear Mr. President, Chief of Police, the DA Firm
The Judge of the Commonwealth, this concerns
I'm from the Bandanna Empire
Just one of the many of young riders caught at the crossfire
A product of my environment, rip riders and bloods
But to your perceive, that's a thug
But in all actuality, we're two of the same kind
Cause your war ain't no different that mines
We're both wave a flag signs
Nigga that what's the difference, we do drive-bys, you do fly-bys
Ring the alarm, show me the info's of One Time Swarmy
Cause like Ali said Fuck your Army!
I'd rather slang Fuck All Y'all
Cause the President ain't never took a trip to my hood
And around here, we've been at war for years
Feel the tears!

[Chorus: Butch Cassidy]

[Interlude: W.C.]
You know what I'm saying?
It ain't nothing but my pain, it ain't nothing but my pain
My struggle, your struggle, tears of a killer!

[Verse 3: W.C.]
Uhh! now this is for them niggaz from around the way
Cooking work up and getting it, my holster affiliates
Little homies, big homies, kins
That meet my niggaz find lives in them level four penitentiaries
Trust me dog, though my poster is on the wall
I ain't forgot, I still got love for y'all
Though haters wanna adjust me, cause my wrist is crispy
Please believe it, these cameras don't mean shit to me
Side by side, we're all used the same blights
Came up together from the same bytes
Riding on the back of the Ice Cream trucks and gold cars
Then when the money came in, done fucked over the whole cards
Now, it's every nigga for his self, cut throats
Damn! Loc, where did the love go?
On behalf of the Gs rested in peace, I had to speak on it
Together we're the shit, don't sleep on it

[Chorus: Butch Cassidy]

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