Lyrics:
Yahweh
Selassie eye and I'm proud to say, I never need a 9 by my waist
Niggas still respect my game so celestials respect my space
And I just might be in
(Hellrell)
By the time this shit touch the streets
Ill prolly be shackeled down on the bus wit beats
But imma ride anyway
Get high anyway, and let my vvs
swing, ah while my beat go
BOOM BOOM - why don't you let me take you to my room
Take off our shoes relax sit on bed and watch the Looney Tunes
But no!
- swing beat
Name; Heavy D, so just watch me
Car; Chevy four by four Blazer
Favorite pasttime? Skeeze chaser!
Size; ten and a half, sometimes
Smackin' suckas silly, a remix
Take two thousand, and seven, or is that eight
(Hanna Barbara)
[Chorus]
Well it's one two three of us, never
to beat the streets and end up with bloody knuckles
Cowardly hearts with fake thugs that try to mouth
Yet they don't send nobody home in a box, in the..
(Wonder)
Ay
(Bitch I got more)
Bitch I got more colors on neck than a box of nerds
Run up on me you gon' end up inside a hearse
Honestly I don't give
both parts
He did the drop, one ring in a bag, envelope, all the money he had
Left the money and the ring in a slow exhale
Two weeks went by, got a box
it
Ay, last night I squabbled all my demons and got packed out
Someone told them that my skin was brown but on these beats I black out
Uncle found
My crew in the front got it locked
My live niggas in the back got the gats
Yo, we true to this black
4-4 likes to pour one to the dome, lubricate
to spaz out? Crunchtime, blow ya abs out
Leave you in the fetal position, witcha ass out
Ready to mash out any crew actin like
they the true facts
ya
cll this money ya gave me the blues now hey
Oh yuh what it do now
She want roll with the crew but I need two now (Hey)
Bring yo friend bed time
The war-time snap shot
The working man's jack-pot
A two dollar snack box
Sold beneath the crack spot
Olympic sponsor of the black Glock
Gold medalist in
above ya and if not? You got 2 legs beneath ya and if not? At least you ain’t getting beat down and shot You still got a lot, a lil spot, a lil cot,
speak the language my crew too live
I'm in my new rise
Success go to the believers, I make my Duas
I'm at the game, in dem' floor seats
You got dem' nose
I remember way way way back in the day
we used to bun purple haze, go to nuff raves
bass box, wax club, roller express
girls would show love and we
hate me fall backkkkkk
No choice by force I sport
To go and cop sum ice
Designer on my mojo
I live in the spotlight
Real street nigga aint no flaw
The crew is at the crib
And the nights on pause
Brew is in the fridge and the same ol' song
Is playing on the box and
We're starting to think
Of why
what the fuck I'm doing
At this very minute
Gotta beat the sunset
My adrenaline kicked in
Always up to no good
I was once upon a youngin'
Time keeps
a drive by for two blocks straight (nigga)
I'll put money on your head from a shoe box bank (what's shakin'?)
And leave the murder unsolved like the Tupac
bang your head, a bang your head
c bang your head to the beat if your fearless
I was 8 years old with a boom box pumas and tube socks
Cooling for two
to pound
Feel the beat and obey the raw sound
We give ourselves two lives and we can't get enough
No we won't get enough
We are the stains in black
we was young, dumb and broke in high school
And we would dodge guns and swung on those in piru
And would ride, live and die by one concise rule
its nuttin’ to be proud of
Yo, grew up on a dumb estate, North side that’s a jumpy place
Where you might get stabbed by your mate and you can’t trust
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