Lyrics:
the sky as the day go by, talking to God like Man when the reign gon' stop
Hoping tomorrow gon' be different in a day of God
Let in your light, shine
by, talking to God like Man when the reign gon' stop
Hoping tomorrow gon' be different in a day of God
Let in your light, shine through as we pray oh
the daughter's pain
On and on again
The mother feels the daughter's pain
Gutter rains pour as they're filling up a cigarette
Highlights of the flares casting down
'bout my kitchen, I got trust issues with my bitches
Every gun inside my city, it got switches, I'm not kiddin'
I should sit down with the mayor, I
the gambling girls and girls Lord
By the gambling girls and guns
My father was the rambling kind
Yeah my Mother she died young
Oh and by god's grace I'd see her
my opinion you make it
The critic'll get the didick and if you got it then stay with it
You never knew me but you flew me to your town see
By
him down
Grab the hag and jam a rag in her mouth
Wrap some string around her wrists, and tie her feet
You guys toss her in the back of the van
I'll
people concerned
'Cause they know our return is confirmed by holding a gun firm
What's that in the distance?
You fucked slums raw 'til they gave birth
Standin' on the front stoop hangin' out the window
Watchin' all the cars go by, roarin' as the breezes blow
Crazy lady, livin' in a bag
Eatin' outta
Hands up
Hands up
Guns down
R.I.P. Jelan Moreira
Hands up, guns down
Some way, some how
Rome wasn't built in a day
Brick by brick I got a City 2 Save
around
I ain't here to fuck around, caught you wit' your pants down
You know what it is, put your fuckin' hands up
Liz, that's enough, you can put your
eh
Na ni na
Nanina
Na ni na ni na
Na ni na
Nanina
Ohh
She tie me down eh oh
She tie me down
She tie me down eh oh
She tie me down
She tie me
Mac play, quiet town, tie it down
I supply it now, by the pound
Might front you with a cube if you buy a pound
If you didn't try it then, why
about a treat
Your lookin' dapper from your napper to your feet
Dressed in style, brand new tile
Your fathers old green tie on
But wouldn't giver you
a highlight to the show, of course
You hear DJ Scott LaRock (Go off! Go off!)
(Scott La Rock) (Go off! Go off!) x8
Verse 3:
Boogie Down Productions, no
nothing to lose
And yo it seems to be I'll nigga
Kill or be killed in the 'Ville, nigga
All up and down Mother Gaston, they blastin' steel
Blow your stacks
To primetime television and your guilded cage
Then, forget his people in the world still enslaved"
I barbwire my wrist, and let it fill the page
Gun firing
Dipset man
Aye yo you know I've been all over
the motherfucking world man
But ain't no place like Harlem man
(Let) me break it down man
We
patriotic!
The passive mammals can sleep
Cuz we worship
Guns and god
Half-witted crones
Going rogue, don't
Retreat, reload
Guns and god
Half-witted clones
his father's truck and stole a gun
Mother running down the highway screaming
Johnny it's too bad, oh it's too and it's bad
And it's too bad
This the city where they die When the gun load
This the city where the young Don't grow old
This city where them mothers screaming no More
Where
the get back
Lead through shit bag, hog tie gag
Forget the life we had, now we all rebels
Everything burnt down includin' the ghetto
We can see for miles
this close to ahh, slap off a wig
You got five days left
Bitch get to work
My bread and Kyle or your face in the dirt
They gun butt Shiro, had him
how
What you wanna throw down?
Better bring your guns pal
'Cause this is the day we make 'em pay
Fuck balin' hay, I bail and spray with an AK
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