Lyrics:
completed without the sun, moon and stars
That's man, woman and child
To all you fake-ass niggas who think you gonna survive out here
Without your Black
nigga straight out of Compton
The fuck you magazine niggas want from me?
I rewrote the game, nigga, now talk money
All black on my Al Capone shit
I
crossed out
Never made men
We find excuses to loot, cock, and shoot
Blow the roof off them groups
Like rock block raute
I can't be touched
Cause
But when we made it out to the ride
It was gone, we had to shoot it out
Side by side
Punk left us there to die in a ditch!
CHORUS
chillin', loungin' at the crib, check it out now)
The, the mic is open, yo
For the Stretch Armstrong show, hosted by Bobbito
How should I start this?
see it
A MIRROR!
Well take a look cuz e'rybody wanna be it
WE STRONG! we black, impact tha power like tha panther
CHANT IT, 2 tha world.
ITZ THA ANTHEM
Trying to wake up everybody, can't we all get along?
For all my people that's out there persevering through the storm
Black fist, Staten Island, stand up,
on my hat in
Ol' English (la-lala-la-la-la-la)
Drive by homicide
R.I.P. tats in Ol' English Westside 'til I die
Niggas pourin' out that Ol' English
Hearin you out is senseless, perhaps for instance
I give this faggot a french kiss
Black gloves, no prints, dark tints
Word on the street they ain't heard
it always remains
[ CHORUS: The Holmes Brothers ]
I remember
When we used to play shoot-em-up, bang-bang
I remember
When we used to play shoot
through the alley with six dudes
Strapped up everybody focused no mixed views
The sawed off pump in my hand with two shells
The other four homies
Here, have a dollar
In fact, no brotherman here, have two
Two dollars means a snack for me
But it means a big deal to you
Be strong, serve God
to shoot outs, we won't move away
[Chorus]
All my niggas that held it down the last half a decade
My nigga gruff, bad 140th, 139th
Black tone, white
save your life
It's ya boy, Kane Dingaling, A.K.A. the original black Spider-Man
About to shoot a rope down your throat, it's DJ EZ-Dicc
Killing you
watching you for about two weeks
Selling phony imitations of myself
if I chose to wild I might flip or break your table
Strong arms tappin all
New York big city of dreams
And everything in New York ain't always what it seems
You might get fooled if you come from out of town
But I'm down by
we'll catch Sergeant Koon
Shoot him in the face, run up in him with a broom
Stick, prick, devils ain't shit
Introduce his ass to the AK-40 dick
Two
Not wearing two chains, but I keep it TRU
Real niggas with me my real bitches, too
Out for Trump change, yeah, I gotta eat
Patience is a virtue
usually not good
Cause I freeze with my hands on a hot hood.
And getting' jacked by the you-know-who.
When in a black and white the capacity is two
and a half
[Chorus]
Someone deserted you, the damage is done
Now you don't deserve to be loved by no one
Hands that would feed you when you were two
if we lived by the sea
Most important decisions in life
Are made between two people in bed
I found that out at my expense
And when I see you
You
on, it's a photoshoot
(Listen to this track, bitch)
Me and Boosie smokin' fruity, it look like a photo shoot
Shout out to my nigga Webbie, my hoes
We make corrosive tunes through acid tabs and vocables
To see the flashing lights at photo shoots, we make our motive moves
I say whatever I feel
then spit the stems
Description, Liberace, fit's the gems
Was six when I traveled
The young black Pharrell
Walk you out your crib wit
Your lips around
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