• Lyrics: play full screen play karaoke
• Outside My Life - Concentration Camp
• Cabbage Savage - Concentration Camp
• Sickess - Concentration Camp

[Talking-(deep voice]
Welcome to the concentration camp
Maxminelli (voices in the background) J-von
C-loc, Young Bleed, Leetyme
[Maxminelli]
Na na, i can lay low for a G lay low for a meal
My mind is at my control, if I say so then he will
I got some thangs in mind, the situation at hand
I'm a sick man, down with the program
I'm anybody understand my plan, then they can feel what i felt
We mad at the world, fuck being anythang else
We bringing paper to the table, we taking joyful in stride
It ain't as easy to survive as it is to die right
Ebony queen on my side when I'm shining
Niggas looking at me like I don't belong where I'm residing
He who beholds the tightest game shall prevail
Through hard times and saphire dreams aiming to fail
Stale as dirty down to your last pants and shirt
How the fuck life feeling neglected and hurt
Though we know not what we do, we still do what it takes
Until the truth is revealed, these fake niggas seem real
Still sealing they faith, and making injured reserved
Something that they expereinced, no longer something they heard of
But you'll hear about it quick
Cause everybody talk shit
Loud fo' publication
Maintaining reputation
(Chorus 1)
Outside my life in rhyme, outside the world
No matter how fast we grow we still boys and girls (tryin to figure -echo-)
Tryin to figure where the love when it ain't none left
Now what the fuck we gone do with ourself
(Chorus 2)
On the outside my life in rhyme, outside the world
No matter how fast we grow we still boys and girls (tryin to figure -echo-)
Tryin to figure where the love when it ain't none left
Now what the fuck we gone do with ourself (Uh Huh)
[Young Bleed]
I suggest you focus on tomorrow, with a third eye view
See the game for what it is, then its all on you
I stand true for what I do for life and love and legacy
Tryin the life I live, never like my destiny
I'm tryin to be forever free
Some niggas will never be
Steadily stackin up confedi, playin with weapons
Runnin through the ghetto ask no questios tell no lies, ain't no alabis huggin
highs
And the devil in disguise
We visualize the same dream with cream
Through the sick team
Shinin like diamonds comin down in southern clean (hittin side ways)
Slowly watchin the world go 'round
Ain't a thang popa on the low down
Prepared for the showdown
The future holds nothing else left but confrontation
And conversation runnin nation
Over music and melodies mashin out in the glass hoe
Bailin with felons, ready to blast though
Nigga, ha ha see it through my eyes, try to feel my fury and flame
Just for playin ghetto games
And life goes on and on
Flipin till the break of dawn
Hustlin, tryin to get it before its gone
(Chrous 1)
[C-loc]
Wait a minute, all my in-laws gated
The way I hold my composure in suicidal situations is scary
Legendary, like the lone ranger, with a fist full of dollars
Malitious intent
You heaven sent
So follow me to a world where thugs no longer die young
But yet make millions sellin street game to avoid number one
This shit ain't funny no more, bitches done gave the game up
It ain't quick money no more, the feds done fucked my name up
Throwin up, frome the hennesy and fat sacks of weed
Tryin to regain my sanity, fuckin with bleed
Greed, invy, and lust are common ghetto problems but
In gats i trust so playa I'm to solve quick
(Chorus 1)

[Talking]
Whats Happenin the grawl nitty camped out nigga
The halocaust in 98 playa
We the sickess all the time on the grind
All they got to do is say when nigga
If you in the way you just gone get rolled on believe that
You think I'm playin with you let me show u something
[C-Loc]
Where its at nigga, where its at nigga
Where the dope at nigga with my mug on
Concentration camp savage bout his cabbage in the war zone
Down to break a jaw bone you hustlers know that sound
Central booking for fucking 'round whoa now
In a city where black folks wanna holla
Cause the white folks don't wanna see a nigga with a dollar
But we still on the highway trying to get the dope back by friday
Can careless 'bout what the fucking feds say
[Lay Lo 1]
Camp affiliated so start antiating gats nigga
Plated or black nigga
Aint taking no more stacks bitch
We breaking your back
I'm making your scrash for me
We say its simple and plan cuz thats the way it has to be
I grab my thang and blast for you, you grab your shit and blast for me
And we get mixed up in some mess we cause catasterfee
A nigga can't get mad at you if he don't get mad at me
Now we passing the microphone like we used to pass the weed
[Lay Lo 2]
Aight nigga we got business to attend to as a bitches gone surrender
Country side gangster shit nigga, and we weigh cigars
Me and my nigga chopping streets like a butcher
With thangs in seat cushions
Fuck a ghetto rap pushers
We beefing with haters and tryin to come up off of these sacks
Gave up my everyday nina fina for these raps
And if these tracks, don't get my shit on swole
I ain't got nothin to loose, nigga we ready to fold
[Chorus- Young Bleed] x 2
You do it savage nigga
You 'bout that cabbage nigga
Fuck, you gotta have it nigga
Addition to the habbit nigga
Want it better grab it nigga
Adjust to livin lavage nigga
Hustlin just a habbit and keep it hopin like a rabitt nigga
[Lucky Knuckles]
Let me know if ya ready
To show I'm down for confedi
Ain't got no time for the fake niggas sippin hot ones in they belly
This shit gets heavy for me, tru playas hustle for cheese
Respect the young nigga mind I'm only out to get me
I ain't got time for that bull-shit, frontin you get dunked on
I live by the streets, never leave my home, without my crome (Nigga)
[Young Bleed]
So what you wanna do with a ill matic, phyco-patic
Nappy nigga causin static
I hope you ready for steady stackin fedi, cause it don't stop with me
Everytime I doubt on my dough somebody (bitches) watchin me
I play it like it gotta be
Mashin in a high phillosophy
Runnin in it get it hollin' what u got for me, (Nigga)
[C-loc]
Fuck that frontin bitch I feel like killing something
Something ain't my thing so I'm a bang if I hear' em mumble
Bumble like a baby known to beat a bitch to death
Or grab them things and make' em range on the last nigga left
Dear God up in heaven, why must I all ways think of 211s
And 187s please help this felon
Makes his way back to the spot without gettin popped
Or snatched up out local cots and doing life like my pops
[Boo the Boss Playa]
Nigga, how you gettin your money, huh, slow or fast
I got 160 on the dash
500 on the ass, S class
Fuckin 'round with them hood rat tramps
Tryin to lead them hoes back to the camp, (so i can set it out for sho)
If you a freak bitch, then let it out
All my playa partnas don't mind, throwing up in your mouth
You see that arrow pointed towards the bottom, we call it the south
4 silly birds 500 an ounce
[Leetyme]
Drop the chesse in the cage with 30 hungry gorillas
Who the last to snatch, who you callin a killa
The smell of blood of my enemy make my dick like stone
Wanna leave him dying alone then jackin off with his own
Look at me my back by the wounds of your whip
Look at me I'm spyin on the woman you split
And these niggas so trippin, so busy playa hatin me
When them folks done gripped and got your mammy in the streets

*(J-Von)*
Now if ya all in wit me,
*(C-Loc)*
Come an get me wit some hin,
*(J-Von)*
An a fifty, an it stick it in,
*(C-Loc)*
Let this begin,
*(J-Von)*
Like 10 to the 9,
*(C-Loc)*
To the 5, 4, 3,
*(J-Von)*
They ain't knowin what this camp life means to meee!
Verse 1 *(Maxminelli)*
I'm still a hustla,
an we know this,
then you need to quote this on the front page,
true that,
never two,
on paper view,
wit the blunt blazed,
last time you heard us rhyme,
we came out tacklin po-po's,
now we surely stackin chips,
but we ain't packagin no doe,
see the ho-bos an fiends,
they can't get down wit the team,
oh yeah we bout cream,
but the colors, mostly green,
so brace yourself,
I'm a take yo wealth,
an leave you traumatized,
bonified hustla,
from out the backwoods of the country side.
Verse 2 *(J-Von)*
So southside hustlaz throw yo hands in the air,
eastside, westside, northside dont care,
over there, over here,
(what?)
same thing everywhere you go,
it's real,
once they waited fo the,
bustaz that hear me know we,
even them guns,
an they ready to throw it,
I hope I see a nice night for bein this ghetto poet,
ya know it,
so it's like me,
I'm a play the game rough,
an like to tear sumpthin up,
sick shit nigga what?!
Chorus *(J-Von)*
Man fuck y'all niggaz,
man fuck y'all bitches,
we got the money an switches,
but ya can't get wit us,
cuz we the Sickess.
Man fuck y'all niggaz,
man fuck y'all bitches,
always runnin to get us,
but ya can't get wit us,
cuz we the Sickess.
Verse 3 *(C-Loc)*
Nigga I can say,
fuck 'em,
cuz they bustaz,
causin ruckus,
cuz they know they can't touch us,
got 'em hollerin "How ya do that there!",
when I bust 'em, can't trust 'em
struggle fuck that,
hustle, slang crack,
the rhyme saw,
niggaz bust an get back,
I bust back,
no hidin, duckin hataz,
hollerin "Fuck 'em niggaz",
ain't nuttin,
now he rich an think a nigga can't touch him,
so now they bustin,
an me an my cuz OG,
an now these fools know they know me,
last time I spanked that ass they called the police,
ya gotta,
know when to hold on, (say what?)
know when to fold on, (uh-huh)
you better walk away, (boo-yow!)
before I make ya run,
son,
it's unheard,
the way we went from slangin birds,
an droppin bodies on the curb,
to sellin words,
platinum,
that's how it happened,
it's wicked when I kick it,
wicked,
if it ain't broke don't fix it,
clown,
cuz we the Sickess MUTHA FUCKA!
Chorus
Verse 4 *(Young Bleed)*
Watch me spit the Sickess,
shit,
you ever heard,
an make a million niggaz witness,
this,
fresh off the curb,
hollerin at ya in ya ears like this,
fuck what ya heard,
face to face wit confrontation my niggaz,
ballz an my word,
now if ya ready let me know this real,
I'm hoppin out the vehil,
caddy fools bustin ta kill,
some is steady buggin fo nuthin,
lovin my life, keepin my head tight,
bailin the corner on two wheels,
mashin through red lights.
Verse 5 *(C-Loc)*
Where yo hood at, (what?)
throw it up,
the club,
yeah we tore it up,
soon as this clown get to buckin,
we gonna rush him,
must stop playin wit me,
if ya in wit me,
you'd a known,
I get spaced out,
they mace the place out,
then I'm gone,
in the Expo,
til the next show,
you never know,
what we got in stoe,
til the cap,
hit the doe,
hollerin if ya got the paper straight then the show must go on,
but when niggaz get to breakin shit,
it's time to go home.
(Ya heard me?)