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7 Sign


Yeah, this for all you non-believers, especially out in the C-O. Man,

fuck y'all niggas.

Yeah, I'm (tatted) so when I die, you can see what's deep in my eye

[my eye].


7 Sign . . .


I put who got you, too, who shot you, who got you, glock you and stop

you [stop you, stop you].

Look who got you, too, who shot you, who got you, pop you and stop you

[stop you, stop you].

Nigga, this Mo Thug and we can get fucked-up even if I'm under

surveillance, I watch out, wanna win, and fuck 'em up daily,

throwin' up 7, what am I yellin'? Murderer. Nigga, once you come must

be like crazy if you [Muthafucka, don't play me] play

me. Nigga, not today. I see you but you can't see me. I know with all

of government and, yes, this will get crazy and blow

[bomb, bomb, bomb, bomb].


Got your mind blown, vocal tones keep it sewn, blastin' out your

steroes or your headphones. The roots exploited clones;

therefore, it's my job to describe the loudness, the habitat of rap

survival kit. Artistic skin abrasion, so when 'em fadin' my

worldly reflections, it's magnified to new levels of elevation.


Seven sign, seven, seven sign, seven, seventh sign seal.

Yeah, now y'all know, yeah.

Yeah, I'm (tatted) so when I die, you can see what's deep in my eye

[my eyes, my eyes].

Now, look who got you, then, who shot you, who pop you, glock you and

stop you [stop you, stop you].

Look who got you, too, who shot you, who pop you, glock you and stop

you [stop you, stop you].


The Rip here to run in the street, and flippin' on police, yeah they

know me, I'm not lonely, only, show me when the smoke

clears, and at least I had my homie and a nigga, K, homie. All

bitches, look into it as you want the real killa? Well, pull out

your pistol, bitch, and shoot it, shoot it. And you knew it, too,

when, when you looked in my eyes, I'm ready to die. And I

hope my mama really loves me, 'cause daddy's bye-bye. Inner pride with

the Ripsta, let 'em hit ya with the scripture, picture

me loc'd out and smoked out with a half of fifth of (?).


Three sixty-five out of all the round trees, they'll be Japanese,

Maje$ty's corruptin' record companies. Nigga, jump for cheese,

catch sub-zero freeze and crack once the atmosphere brings the

temperature back, slacks only in dress pants, have you ever

danced with the devil in pale moonlight? I have. Hollywood niggas make

me laugh. Sell a dream to 'em. Cash, no royality,

grab they royal keys and dash. My overhead projects how ends meet to

foul or ejected, lyrics was selected beyond my

control, last door on the totem pole, pockets swoll from tape residue,

last interview and went in daytime, it's made a promise to

let down smooth criminals gently and (?) grab your earlobe and

billion, this is big business, buy tapes, don't lend, niggas (?)

while I scrap change for phillies, why grill me? Got bigger balls to

chase waterfalls with Chili, explore on four wheels or foot, I

bring it to that ass over the hook so when you slip, gots it. I ride

up on it. I had to maintain my mental frame, and now I'm

Boneless, word sound 'til I'm foamin'. Cybergenics wanted my genes for

clonin'. Disownin' heads like Romans fight rebel

Trojans. More than civil suits make my longevity boost, articles and

promotions make me more potent. Deadly to the mind,

'causin' somethin' to be blind, redefine lines entertwined with all

mankind. Would that rain outshine divine Maje$ty, shame, the

boogie down Bronx is where the heart still remain.


I'm a let a nigga know, you know what I'm sayin', just right off the

bat. I gives a fuck about no nigga. Don't be no (corvie)-ass

nigga. I'm tryin' to tell niggas that off the rip, off the rippa,


[I must be losin' my mind . . .] I must be.

Where's the mob? Find your specialty, let's give this nigga a job. Is

you ready for jail? Yes and no, but somebody's gonna try

to rob. We can spar, but you gon' drop [drop], I'm a bomb, ready for

war, will I p-pop pop, better look out for miles, been

doomed since the womb. Will he put me in my tomb? I've been thuggin'

so assume when I enter your room, boom. Stomped

through Compton and cities y'all ain't never heard of, and listen, I

bet there's thousand people screamin' out "murder, murderin'

ya." Hypnotized, took off my shirt, I got a (?). I'm tatted so when I

die you can see what's deep my eyes. Trues ride but trues

die, my nigga, don't cry, I shedded my last tear when I found out love

was a lie. So I try, but it ain't nothin' for my mental. So

piss off my pencil, and I blast, dash in a rental. One nigga got (?)

and off he in a trap with sawed-off they took a chance and

lost, let's spray A-K and make gangsta gone, don't finish the wars

when they ain't over, I love you thugs, but all them skeletons

got so close and they got so (?) if it ain't (?), this family that

don't give a fuck who you are. It ain't nothin' like some trouble.

How close? How far [how far, how far]?

7 Sign /

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