I don't walk, I stalk; living foul like pork.
Shutting down underground streets of New York.
Hawk is what the niggas call me, 'cause they all be
Sucking my dick and my mother fucking balls, G.
I know the half, so I laugh with 'em.
Blood bath when I let the fucking rap hit 'em.
Full clip, but only half did 'em;
That's all it took, another crook taken out over a dirty look.
I bag game with niggers I leave shot dead.
You're not taking a fucking thing from me but hot lead.
You know my style, faggot, 'cause I'm always scheming.
In Jail, niggas holdin' a sink, screaming
Police! But you got no peace.
Yo, was that you, big man, and a lot more grease?
All I gets is pounds; you ain't want none of this.
Back streets are like track meets 'cause I be running this.

Ain't nowhere to run, ain't nowhere to hide...
Ain't nowhere to go; Reaper's saved your soul...

Surrounded by the colors, I see crimson, black, and blue.
Locking open doors again; I'm still afraid of you.
Light to dark, then light again, I always thought I knew.
Young to old and young again, what's left for me to do?
Sister of the universe, selecting me in time.
I'm falling down upon the Earth and singing truth in rhyme.
If I was a rolling stone, I'd roll until I'm through,
And if I was a garden I would bloom in black for you!

Ain't nowhere to run, ain't nowhere to hide...
Ain't nowhere to go; Reaper's saved your soul...
Argh, yargh, yargh, yargh...

Ain't nowhere to run, ain't nowhere to hide...
Ain't nowhere to go; Reaper's saved your soul...

What you motherfuckers invented
Is the craziest nigga that ever been invented.
Most know; don't front on Ol' Dity Bastard.
I call on Jesus.
There's no obstacles that you have to jump.
There's no walls that you have to climb.
This is real; this is elementary, dear; elementary, Watson.
Elementary, argh!
I ain't no picture on your fucking wall, necklace-wearing bitch.
You don't want this money till it's rich.
Buy my album, coded by Dirty, set you free.
Go against the grain; I got the P.
I know you don't recognize me now; I done cocooned.
How many lightning bolts do it take to light up a fucking moon?
Brothers, people, you'd better get the fuck off of me.
We don't need it; it gets more ugly.
Fools tryin' to bust their ass,
Tryin' to get away from me when I said my real name.
I call myself in the bitch butthole.
All the same, all the same, all the same.

Ain't nowhere to run, ain't nowhere to hide...
Ain't nowhere to go; Reaper's saved your soul...

Writer : JORDAN, KEN/KIRKLAND, SCOTT/OSBOURNE, OZZY/SIMMONS, EARL
Copyright : Lyrics © EMI Music Publishing, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.