Chris Ward - World Come 2 an End lyrics

[Godfather] Where the guns clack-clack, and they love Fat Pat Where them boys from the ghetto, put the South on the map Before my world come to an end, I go and cop me a Benz 600, ride around and get blunted All my past enemies, they gon get hunted Make love to my woman, she get it how she want it Take my kids to Disney World, like I won the Superbowl Plus I beat my court case, because a loop hole Exotic flavors, always keep the fruit rolled My bulletproof block shots, like Manute Bol You can't hit me, be in Houston like I'm Whitney Spear you like Brittany, put a knife in your kidney Godfather run game, like the Globetrotters I should run for President, like I'm Jimmy Carter Over the waters, coke smuggled through the harbors In the states we transport it through somebody's daughter [Hook — 2X] Before my world comes to an end, I'm going out with my men Screwed Up Click, setting a trend In the Lex or the Benz, steady spending the ends Getting up with yellow bones, have ‘em calling they friends [Chris Ward] Before my world ends, I wanna push a pearl Benz On 20 inch Lorenz, that spin like whirlwinds Hugging my girlfriend, that's black and plastic And she doesn't mind, putting these haters in caskets Put a cheddar to cheese, and velveeta I mash quick I came in this game, first round draft pick Taking your b**hes, making my riches Bracelets frostbit, so you can skate on my wristses Pretty hoes see me pull up, in 4.6's And that's when they get mad, wishing it was two Chris's On tracks I'm vicious, untamed and malicious In they face, blowing up like air bags and bubble-licious Serving you flows, like Papa Deauxxx main dishes Getting funds by the tons, while the dope game switches I make it senseless, to end up dead or in the FED When I can spit lyrical h**n, and make bread [Hook — 2X] [H.A.W.K.] You b**hes pathetic, you n***as polished synthetic Cake mix and flour, make up your genetics Call the paramedics, sh**'s about to get hectic Fin to light up your spot, like General Electric Dead End Texas, the best with pitched bird I done flooded the Suburb', with fifty featherless birds My game blast superb, Gucci shoes and Iceberg Since it's all about the End, I have the urge to splurge It's lunch time, you on the bench at crunch time And one rhyme, can hit you on the punch line My bullets defy gravity, bust through your chest cavity With pen point actually, I restructure your anamity More vultures than I bury, I can cause a catastrophe Arenas filled to capacity, and you have the audacity I'll k** your next-a-kin, be hard to apprehend Turning corners in the Benz, my world has come to an end [Hook — 4X] (talking) Yo, before we leave this world playboy We gon live it up you dig, me and Big H.A.W.K Under Hawk's Wings, In God's Hands Records Godfather forever you dig, 2000 sh** you know I mean H-Town put it down, Dirty South put it in ya mouth Y'all n***as don't want no war, we them ill n***as