J.R. Writer - Your Way lyrics

[Verse 1: J.R. Writer] Aight - yo I ain't gon' front, I always thought he was a survivor Shells and rounds, held 'em down, when he was in the fire Now feds got him tapped from the sneakers to attire Just like Kanye West, speakin' through the wire Like: "Don't forget, make sure you speak into the wire!" Thinkin' not he was singin', he would be up in the choir When I find 'em, I'ma put the heater to his visor All he's gon' see is the screechin' on the tire Up the block, bang a right, make a left Thang I light, made 'em stretch Candlelights, graves are set Not only that though - all his weight was wet Hustle dummies, f**ed up money, and was way in debt [Verse 2: Juelz Santana] It was all good just a week ago We was together smokin', hella reefer smoke All in the vehicle I got the word back: he was in the vehicle With the D's, I bet he thought he was low Damn, this n***a spent the night in my crib Sat in my mom's kitchen, now he go off snitchin' But this my man, I could just stop f**in' wit' 'em Like I'm just not f**in' wit''em...or just pop one up in 'em Plus - there's rules here: if you play where the rats play You gotta go, you must lay where the rats lay Hate to see a n***a that I broke bread with His whole head split - cold, dead, stiff [Verse 3: Cam'ron] See he opposed when we slapboxed Then we dove the crack rocks Jackpot: Golden Rolls when we drove the Jag drops Du-rag top, ock, we cut the cheese together Legos, ate Eggos, went to Chuck E. Cheese together We watched Chucky, Shucky Ducky, we were lucky Had a Huffy, then a buggy Sold dubs, and twenty three's the weather Now he got the nerve, to get lazy, watch me serve With guac? or herb, now he gettin 'jealous cuz I'm coppin' birds And he wired like MoneyGram, I got the doctrine Went to the spy store so I watched who's watchin' And you thinkin' that Cam's sweet? Damn the street f** rock he ran to sleep, I'm cuttin off his hands and feet And his glands and teeth...Yeah, the mission get done Dunn, this b**h is the one, that told me to christen my son! And the muscle tight, he wouldn't tussle, fight f**ed up his juggle, he couldn't hustle right Shoulda came for a loan, you know that scrilla's like But what's ill tonight, k**a gotta k** his wife Yup, address her homey, won't say he left her lonely Seen some transactions, don't need a testimony And I'm no punk, I pump lead ba*tard When I dump, you'll get bumped, yeah them bunkbed caskets And a brother just smiled, I just got him a ditch Another motherless child, cuz they father's a snitch