Lyrics:
yet
Pour you a shot baby right from my flask
A real country boy will always give you his last
I was born with a shotgun in my hand
I was raised up by
to the neighborhood
As we're walking there, my buddy and I get passed real slow by two cops in a squad car
Sure enough they pull a U-turn and stop us, asking us where
won’t see the lights in the passenger cars
Or pictures in the window frames
And you won’t hear them shouting all aboard
Last call for the St. John’s train
the same when you're not by my side
Moving so fast I wasn't looking back
With you everything feels different like it's our last
Day on earth to enjoy
the night with you
Climb on in to the passenger side
Take seat for the rest of our lives
Don't mind the traffic, its passing us by
It's cool cause when I'm
and a Porsche by the lakeshore
All paid for it's what I'm made for
Riding on my skateboard
Tryna make more
Like a bank job tryna take score
Need a house
Last night I saw you again
I couldn't believe my eyes
You were in a car, on the passenger's side
I saw the corner of your eye from where you saw
certain for
Churches and cheers
Newcomers beat by old-timers
Clickin' in years
Jetsetters catching jets and Lears
Aggressive, pumpin' Melle Mel's message
I’m just a passenger
I watch my life pass by
It’s not very much fun anymore
Still, here I am every night
(EVERY Goddamn NIGHT)
Shotgun, death
I press my nose against the window
I'm green with envy as this world goes rushing by
Last chance to change this scene - last chance to self-redeem
Press your lips to your pain for the last time
They'll be gone by sunrise
You resign yourself to failure
As your room becomes a ditch
You blame it
Bitterness of blood overwhelming
Helpless, paralyzed in a hell that's built for me
Blinded by winding screws now he can't see
My dark passenger in
fifty feet high
I seen a passenger pigeon flying by I spit on the ground and he shit in my eye I said
Mister Frog you gotta make this stop he said
Lick my
nice eight ball jean jacket to the last court hearing
I'm ready to change
Add shorty spit in my chicken and rice
I've been fully consumed by hatred,
ain't no resuscitation
'Cause he done got knocked off point blank range
It's a crisis the way niggas'll pull up or shoot
Last week, the streets just
glow in me
It's the manic, run the point like Mike Bibby
The son of Henry, with the last minute entry
Y'all hangin on my balls, tea-baggin like Tetley
Yeah
Uh-huh
Yeah
Yeah
Broke up with my girl last night, so I went to the club (so I went to the club)
Put on a fresh white suit and the Mini
stash box on a little Mercedes
I popped at the last opp, and I end up escaping
If the opp come, I get to squeezin' on the mop
I'm on the run, bitch I
jeep passing me by
Could have sworn it was your dark hair
Blowing out the passenger side
I did a double take, couldn't catch my breath
Felt just like
Another self proclaimed historian
With Einstein as his passenger, and a flux capacitor in his Delorean
Rewrote my past, taught me sin
When we spoke at last
myself so I'm trying
To keep myself all in check, by writing dozens of rhymes (Listen to your heart)
It's time I listen to my heart when it starts talking
I'm with the family
Get it by any means n**** thug it out
Out to Miami
Nothing but foreigns my n***** poppin out
Don't understand me
Scuff my 350s
Ruminating on the future, reminiscing on the past
Made so many memories, most of them didn't last
Brought up by conditions, I wasn't in the position to make
say he had a gun, all he had was his stapler
(E)
Eric Garner, he was a father
But now a martyr, ain't deserve to be slaughtered
His last words, "I
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