Artist: W.C. f/ Butch Cassidy Album: Ghetto Heisman Song: Tears of a Killa Typed by: dy_face@yahoo.com [Verse One: 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 Two: 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 Three: 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]