Lyrics:
you can't do it, it don't matter +what+ you got
Check it out
[ J. Sands ]
Let me talk for a moment and discuss all the perimeters
The real reason why
a brother's call
Brother, where are you?
They said you came this way, yeah
Brother, where are you?
They told me you came this way
Looking for a soul
Not me but my folks
'Cause a life of crime is lived
By everybody I know
And that's the way it is
So let me handle my biz
Let's get it
Are you with me
meat on the street
They paint my car like a target
I take my orders from fools
Meanwhile
some kid blows my head off
Well, I play by their rules
So now
What we have to do is deal with it when these individuals are young enough
If you will, to be saved, not in a religious sense, but not
The klieg lights shoot up over the skyline of Manhattan
but the lights are out on the Mean Streets
A small kid stands by the Lincoln Tunnel
he's selling
walk, just like me
The Too S-H-O-R-T
I might be young, but I spit this game
I start it with P, and it ends the same
If your brain is lame, remember
me hanging by a string
Welcome to the South side
Where you get clapped just for walking by
Got me hanging by a string
Please tell my baby I don't
right by me
Taking short walks in your street
We stroll past the 7 cherry blossom trees
And give them names
You get irritated so easily
When you forget
of oppression, go ahead and preach, reverend
The street's heaven - yeah, when you coming from the seven
We're just here to learn a lesson, add to subconscious
, and you've been my best friend
nobody understand, but they can't look inside of me,
o yeah..
[fade out]
Submitted by - DJ PsyK
Boom, I'm in the booth by my motherfuckin' self Y'all already know what the fuck goin' on
Niggas ain't slidin', and I'm sholl ain't hiding
You
the street
Please don't pretend your listening
It's time for a change
You just leave us to decay
We are all finished with you
Better watch your back
Because
people they already knowing
Pouring my heart on the beat
I still don't got no emotion when you see me walk in the street
You do not know what I see
You
from E.A. Big
N.B.A Street Volume Two you don't see me
Mk two or sf two
Pick Sub-Zero pick Deejay
I'm from hugs juices and sick excuses just to stay up
the buzz
Hop is in the building, cuz
Step to me up on this battlefield, you know I will erupt
Didn't change, I'm still a nut
The girls seen my skills are up
released by David East (what up East?)
Verses hit hard, never pitched hard or played the streets
These niggas' whips hard, behind closed doors, can't pay
A bottle of whites, a bottle of red
Perhaps a bottle of rose instead
We'll get a table near the street
In our old familiar place
You and I, face
Who are oppressed by the figures of beauty
You fixed yourself, you said, "Well
Never mind
We are ugly, but we have the music"
Ah, but you got away,
album by Chrome, the new artist Chrome
C-H-R-O-M-E, go get it, it's jammin' like a fool (yeah, yeah)
"Straight To The Pros," Chrome, October, 2005 (new
I changed my number couple times
'Cause man kept calling me for things
And man are hating
But they're waving
When they saw me on their strip
I
lady with her head up in the clouds
No these streets are cold, our eyes look down
Down at the shit and the needles on the street
Bitch I suggest you keep
back to that internet page
New ways of making money but I keep old values
If you love me keep a picture of me close by you
And your wallet close
notoriety
Of some local gangsters, who would wanna retire me
Or the young soldiers, who stopped by to inquire me
Or rob me blind, approaching me cowardly
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