Lyrics:
fascinated by the game
I bugged out
They raised twenty-five cent prices
For my video games
Mortal Kombat time for no contract
Back to the Future no one told
me some chips just for lunch
Honestly I grew up shaping my life in the streets I was fending so I finessed some adults
Uh uh ye
Uhh uhhh
Way Back up in
as Compton (uh)
By Sylvester Scott and Benson Owens
A mission he formed to provide members protection from the Crips
Today there's over five million Bloods
creatures dancing on the lawn
A Dinosaur Victrola
List'ning to Buck Owens
Doo, doo, doo
Lookin' out my back door
Tambourines and elephants
Are playing in
when you rollin' with me?
The forty on my lap when you rollin' with me
It's shooters in the back when we roamin' these streets
At least three straps
Don't be... 8.5
Fucking wit a god on the mic like me
Catch em wit the weapon when I murder these beats
I ain't scared of these streets shit I'm one
was a killer convention
1991, son, gold fronts on the facial, gun buck by the naval
Disciple could blaze you, we laced it with embalming fluid
on me
Baby girl, these is not McQueens
These Rick Owens
Wait 'til my bitch daddy go to sleep
Hit a lick on him he soft
Back in the day my daddy took
top, you gonna have to fix your collar
Bitch you wanna pop back, look back please, making sure you get your lick back
I could snatch you by your tongue,
I got a pocket full of stones
And they won't leave my ass alone
The law turn their backs on
The street so they trip
Trying to catch me on the short
Homicide buck niggas get the buck with pelets
Insecticide
Johnny 5 take it worldwide
As long as I pledge aligence to the Dark Side
I'll never
that's how the street raised him
Look in the air, say a prayer (hail Mary) hopin God forgave him
Cop liquor, twist it, tap it twice, pour it
war talk
But when me buck dem up, dem nuh wan' talk
So me ah try think hard why dem wan' talk
They must be fascinated with the war talk
Bumba all me
There are some on the streets
Gone living by the gun and beliefs
Some by notes of pianos
Played on and on you see
There are some on the streets
Gone
While the cops on the street put your hands in cuffs on your knees begging please
Profiled by the beast, if your skin ain't bleached be discreet or get
I get my pocket tapped Goodz
Ya Grape is in the street 'cause
Like Suge my pockets fat Goodz
Ya squad not strapped Goodz
Them guys by ya side will
on their feet
A stack on the seat I made from pushin' crack on the street
But when I drop it's gon' feel like LeBron back on the East
And y'all suckers be
started this band, didn't have no plans, didn't see no arc
Just run with the craft, have a couple laughs
Make a buck and dash, yeah
Get a little dap like
a couple of
Grew up with minimum had to chase a buck
Watch my back my sides can never test my luck
Theres been nights I couldn't go home
Other than my main
rules on the streets these days
Muthafuckas better watch they back
And take it eazy!
I'm livin' in the danger zone
And learnin' lesson from the game, it's
crashed, all cashed
She said, I'm done with looking back, and you look your age
Which is thirty-seven, by the way, and not twenty-eight
And fucking let
the life that I'm livin I need it
Don't believe me ask my wife and my children
See I'm back on the street packin the heat
Royalty checks equal to crack in
hangin' day, the sky was overcast and black
Big Jim lay covered up, killed by a penknife in the back
And Rosemary on the gallows, she didn't even blink
hangin' day, the sky was overcast and black
Big Jim lay covered up, killed by a penknife in the back
And Rosemary on the gallows, she didn't even blink
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