Lyrics:
Because everybody fifty cents
From a quarter
Where I come from
Yeah
The streets ain't timid
But I feel at home in it
Gotta see a couple people
I ain't got
by you so fast, got you sneezing, hachoo
They got the shivers, man, I got the fever
I gotta bring the hood back after Katrina
Weezy F Baby, now
yeah)
Breeze by you so fast, got you sneezing, hachoo
They got the shivers, man, I got the fever
I gotta bring the hood back after Katrina
Weezy F
the door
Got a sign at the bar
Says "Thirst No More!"
Gotta get back to my
Mystic Queen
You know that girl
Put a spell on me
When the joint gets jumpin'
She
the urban warfare of fully strapped assault
As an angel hoping my benevolence will change you
Singing folklore of the poor
Natural born warrior
Since the days
don't play miss, I flip and do some strange {shit}
Witchu like hit you with the whips and chains, check it
I get you naked like I'm mystic, cause this
It's the ODB kid, once again coming through your area
And I'm going to tell you one time, you gon' love this
I had to get the money, said it wasn't
Oh yeah
Time to come back home, y'all
Come on, come on, come on
For God I'm a slave
To get to Heaven
Reverend said I gotta be saved
cherish torture
Protect ya neck neck when you view me
Ain't nobody gonna get defended by Dewey
Deputy Dufus, I'm reckless and ruthless
I dissect humans like
sticking to the script you skipping scenes so get a grip I'm so
Mystic I'm a pimp and all these motherfucker's simps
Bitch I'm sticking to the script you
Urban urban
Urban stylez
What up girl
You know
I had to make you a song
J wisdom on the beat
Ima put my whole life
In this bottle
She know
She my
a joke, are you ready to go
Here comes that beat again, oh oh oh oh
(dance) no! (dance) no! (dance) no! (dance) no!
We gotta get out of here
We gotta
the hood where you get murked by your boys
RIP Mfundo, my nigga, they'll never hear your voice
I'm try'na tell the kids to go bigger before they gotta
Before
(yeah! you know what time it's okay!)
Verse 1
Ginger your swagger think not to lose
Grindin harder pushing P, get the egg of goose
Grease up with
body bag
Sambos in my body bag
Put all y'all ass in the bag like dat
Queue the urban symphony
Poured bourbon you finna be
A memoir of fu memories
You
don't need rings
Read the mystic manuscript of my life
I don't get a wife
And I think that's all right
But I'm good on my own
And I don't need a home
can start by what we mean by "we"
When you fight and you survive
Returning broken but alive
Welcome home I say
Is it better? Is it worse?
Power brings
Group in the weather business
Aye
Pop a shade you know I got a lift
Grittin' on a motherfucker yeah got them by my teeth
Drive by you know I gotta move it
much soul
They saying we been on a roll
We get it gone
Okay okay okay
People want the sauce so bad but you gotta black for dis lil honey
I ain't even
Sell Out
On the radio
This is suburban this is a urban
This is a city this is a country thing
You driven by your body
So you out here looking for
you, yeah your one of a kind
Not a second go by, your always on my mind
Your my joy in the morning, yeah your my sunshine
I gotta keep you next
we got
Time flies by old love is forgot
Now I don't want you to forget me
But this music is all I got
And I gotta be on the road
Cause this is all got
Gotta see a couple people
I ain't got at
In a minute
Yeah
You can take a brother outta South Philly
Can't take it outta him really
I forever
blame cos it never stops
We’re being framed by the things we’re not
When we’re home I hope to hold you
Sing along to another song
We’ll tear up as we get
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