| Our Father, Who Art in Heaven, Hallowed Be Thy Name
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| I bow to you with a heart full of pain
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| Tear stains, Khaki suited and off the chain
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| Eyes jaded, straight exhausted from the gist-name
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| I play it calm but the truth is;
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| I’m losing my mind, and hoping you can help me through this
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| All these snitches, punk tricks, Cheddar twisting
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| Phony-ass niggaz in this Record Business
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| Hold down, now let me take my handkerchief and tie it around me
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| Lake it or pancake it, then slide on my bounties
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| Ride on, grind on, say a prayer with my strap
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| Hit the street and get mines on
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| Bring new heat, swing through streets; |
| I want it but can’t stop
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| Chopping and moving this D, I’m in too deep
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| Ándele Ándele, rips and dime moves, build with a nigga
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| Feel the tears of a killer
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| I got the blues, how shall I be loose?
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| Which row to choose, something confuse
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| La la la la la la la
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| (Tears of a Killer, my life, the tears of a Killer)
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| Can’t go away, with no delay
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| Back in the day, my mind was made just astray
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| La la la la la la la
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| (Tears of a Killer, my pain, the tears of a Killer)
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| Dear Mr. President, Chief of Police, the DA Firm
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| The Judge of the Commonwealth, this concerns
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| I’m from the Bandanna Empire
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| Just one of the many of young riders caught at the crossfire
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| A product of my environment, rip riders and bloods
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| But to your perceive, that’s a thug
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| But in all actuality, we’re two of the same kind
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| Cause your war ain’t no different that mines
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| We’re both wave a flag signs
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| Nigga that what’s the difference, we do drive-bys, you do fly-bys
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| Ring the alarm, show me the info’s of One Time Swarmy
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| Cause like Ali said Fuck your Army!
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| I’d rather slang Fuck All Y’all
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| Cause the President ain’t never took a trip to my hood
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| And around here, we’ve been at war for years
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| Feel the tears!
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| You know what I’m saying?
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| It ain’t nothing but my pain, it ain’t nothing but my pain
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| My struggle, your struggle, tears — of a killer!
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| Uhh! |
| now this is for them niggaz from around the way
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| Cooking work up and getting it, my holster affiliates
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| Little homies, big homies, kins
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| That meet my niggaz find lives in them level four penitentiaries
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| Trust me dog, though my poster is on the wall
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| I ain’t forgot, I still got love for y’all
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| Though haters wanna adjust me, cause my wrist is crispy
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| Please believe it, these cameras don’t mean shit to me
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| Side by side, we’re all used the same blights
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| Came up together from the same bytes
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| Riding on the back of the Ice Cream trucks and gold cars
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| Then when the money came in, done fucked over the whole cards
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| Now, it’s every nigga for his self, cut throats
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| Damn! |
| Loc, where did the love go?
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| On behalf of the Gs rested in peace, I had to speak on it
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| Together we’re the shit, don’t sleep on it |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Tears Of A Killa, artist - WC. Album song Ghetto Heisman, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп