Lyrics:
Cal. click, bang I'm gangsta walking with that trick aim
My nuts hang, like D-boys on the corner
And I could send a bitch nigga, a Bengal like Ty
Cal. click, bang I'm gangsta walking with that trick aim
My nuts hang, like D-boys on the corner
And I could send a bitch nigga, a Bengal like Ty
can't even pay the rent
No hot water, I reminisce tears running down my face as I hold my daughter
You spent years by the fire place, I was in
Yesterday
When I was just a boy
In times of youthful hero worship
My kind have been molded by images on the screen
Brought up to emulate the big
Ayy, ayy, ayy
Ayy, ayy, ayy
(Hit-Boy)
Ayy, this that Clipse sample, ayy (G.Ry got me)
Fuck that talkin', let the clip slam 'em
Yellow bands
to locate a mysterious elixir
Disguised as a box of mar-juh-rene
And his instructions are
To rub it on his deflicted eyes
Until some sort of miraculous
Cure
You don't own the road boy
Better kick up a storm
You don't own the big city lights
Better cop out your own
You don't own the green pines
and mysteries
Wives with misty eyes watchin' their niggas be beaten viciously
Battle in the wilderness of North America
Ran by the river, only stoppin' to pray
and the ring in a slow exhale
Two weeks went by, got a box in the mail
In the box was a bullet made of gold
Melted down from the ring, recast with two rings
or trip when you see the lights
cause they can tell you're nervous just by looking in your eyes
in H-Town the business in booming
but it won't last long if
miss, I said, a girl I know
I can't just leave there to pine
She's still got plenty of men to go
I'm sure she'll do just fine
What about my little boy
Ever since a nigga hit the top
Pussy niggas wanna see me in a box
They don't love you no more
They don't love you no more
Shit ain't been
and I'm all that there ever will be
A freeze frame pine box soliloquy… Call me FRANCOIS
[Hook:]
Call Me Francois (call call call me francois)
(Call call
tanned
And the way your right hand
Was peaking outta that glove
I was like “oh man”
Your eyes are deserts, I can easily die of dehydration in you
though
Cause my minds gone
I sold my soul for happy thoughts and end up in a pine box
With their bloodshot eyes yea yea
They don’t wanna see me thrive yea
one more time
'Til you're all curled up in your box of pine
Look in the mirror and it's coming for you
Don't bat an eye boy, it's nothing new
On your
Napoleon murphy brock (vocals)
Bob harris (vocals)
Johnny "guitar" watson (vocals)
Ensemble: (singing)
De white boy troubles!
(white boy troubles!)
De white
the harder way
When you make a lot of money
Time flies like a nine to five
When Im buried put a hundred Thousand in my pine box
When Kobe was alive he was
maybe I wasn't liable
To be the oppos that they spy me for
Oh, poor black boy
In the newspaper got another sad story
Killed by the force or in gang
Yeah, but when they laid him out in that box of pine, boy
They laid that hammer by his side, Lord, Lord
Laid that hammer by his side
Yeah, and Joe
time slot, shit why not
So go home and get your shine box
Or end up in a pine box
When time stops, the grind stops
That'll happen like fugazi diamonds
five-to-ten than work a ten-to-five
There's no logic but fuck it, that's how they feel inside
A fuckin' genocide
A cold six-foot and a pretty pine box with
outlaw has a day to carry that pine box
Dear lord let me live to see another day
Help me deal with this depression another way
Here's a ticket to my
and this damn powder (Powder)
Leave your hood ground zero like the Twin Towers (What)
Y'all put his ass in a pine box (Yeah)
Black suit black top with
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