Lyrics:
The world is just going to drag on and on
And we have a poem that we've written particularly
For the brothers on the street corners
Yo, standing
The world is just going to drag on and on
And we have a poem that we've written particularly
For the brothers on the street corners
Yo, standing
had to work for it im so loyal might put you in thee dirt for it now yo ass dead lifeless on a shirt for it real street nigga but i never been a dope
That can go to the projects (School Street, Home of the Brave)
By his f-in' self and be good (good)
Yeah, ask n- on my projects (yo, Y.O.)
When
Uh, mh, k'yeah
R.I.P. to B.I.G
Classic shit
I'm looking for a nigga to give some babies
A hand full of Weezy's, sprinkle of Dave East
Man, I
the club
Got my mind on danger, never been a stranger to homicide
My city's full of gang bangers and drive-bys
Why do we die at an early age?
He was so
with
Me and Yo Gotti (What?)
Fuck all that
Let's talk about that new Porsche I'm riding
(Uh, huh)
I'm getting money, they getting money
That's the end
bravo lil Neek no Johnny
Oh you jazzin my shit Mike Conley
She bhad I say yo like Gotti
Street clothes she wanna be on my body yea
Know they peepin
name under the hood, Yo Gotti,
Sometimes I think back, I could of went fed, this a chance in a lifetime I gotta think ahead
I got base in the trunk,
locked up
From Queens doing time, we still
(keeping it real, packing steel
Getting high) playing the street game
The only way to get by is
(keeping it
Cocaine,
Forget it by the quarter,
Bring it by the pound, straight through the border.
Cocaine,
Bring it 'cross the water,
When it touch down,
go, wit another ill flow
Yo, who really started this rap shit, I'm addicted
And I can't stop sayin shit, like Sega
I'm Street Fightin niggas like Vega
You niggaz just don't get it do you?
Young Roscoe the sodo
YA, Dogg Poung, Kurupt Young Gotti
Yeah, started November 23, 1972 and 83
[Hook]
Put me
the courtroom with flashbacks
First time yo mom caught you with mad crack
She told you, "Get out
And don’t bring yo ass back"
Now you talkin' 'bout you wish
You
me, talkin' like y'all can't be touched
See by the time y'all realized, I be done touched you up
Blazed you up, your whole style, chump nigga, what?
Closest ones to me want to see me in a box
Is it jealousy or am I cursed by the gods
My son's mother don't know when or where to start
All
thinkin' bout time, ain't thinkin' bout mine, ain't thinkin' bout dying
My nigga so street
My swisha so sweet
All this money on the table
How a nigga
Bet yo bitch know about me
Yea, bet yo bitch know about me
Yea, bet yo
Ya Jack Jvck, Hol' up
Bet yo bitch know about me
Hood know about me
Streets
and raided
Crimes are drug related
And we live by the street
Rules that thugs created
Clowns get smoked about a thousand volts
For selling pounds of coke
a fishy feeling
Normally Walt joke on the phone, this time he over serious
My heart droppin'
I'm like, "yo, what is it?!"
He say he with T.Y
[gotti]
Yeah,no doubt,ugh
One time for the motherfuckin...
[Jazze Pha]
Yaw
This, is Mannie Frishizzle, producshizzle, ha
My nizzle, [whistles] I
judged by 12
Then killed by 12
My nigga its really that deep
Screaming no justice no peace
I cant even sleep
My people left dead in the streets
Aint put
with the mic and you want to flip
I`m the rap bounty hunter and it`s time to get yo ass whipped
Yeah, I`m comin' from the streets, pop
And please
and adopted
By the streets but the
Gift he brought with him to this world
Will effect our outlooks on not only
Rap music but on life as well, forever
Forever
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