Lyrics:
the motherfuckin' house!
Home Team in the mother motherfuckin' house!
J T a Money money Poi son Clan in the motherfuckin' house!
Aak! Fresh Kid Ice in
your folks that duffle bag
The only shit they wanna see is that doggy tag
Hopin' that the worryin' will cease
And your ass will still be home in one
Them fairy tales you tell in your rounds
Will have a shell in the pound
Split your melon to the white
Meat with no melanin found
I could push your
the cops getting dropped by the gunshot
Used to come but he's done, now we run the block
To my brothers stay strong keep your heads up
They know we fed
brone
And keep your personal feelings home
When you bandin' my chrome
Do it for the
Weak and the strong
And to each his own
We do it for the main
Keep that shit from 9-5
Wheels goin' fast as I go by
Makin' wrong turns, just slitherin' by
I'm keepin' that shit from 9-5
Keep that shit from 9-5
from down home.
This young man has never been north before.
I want you to listen to me, I got something to tell
You.
He heard about Chicago.
He
you're goin (Sorry)
I might be dead, but I'll kick your ass
Now I apologized but he still had to talk shit
So I stepped over his face and kept walkin
you in your mother's hands)
I apologize for my absence, I know I left you without a name to drop
(And now I'm standing right here)
I don't know how I
mind
In your ass get it wrong, you gonna meet by nine! (Now)
I remember when that nigga D-roc’s mama used to be candy lady
That nigga had to go come
or you goin' tell on me?
Shit it's all cool, cause it was all good
It's just another day in Doggy Dogg's neighborhood
You better watch your girl, cause
your goin' up and down
I went from Cadillacs in Vegas to the back of GreyHound
San Diego off Broadway, there used to be a spot
I think E Street and 5th
ooh, if I don't get
Well no more
Yes, my health is faillin' on me now, people
Ooh, and I'm goin', goin' down slow
Yes, tell my mother, people,
You want a picture of America
It's good folks goin' to work
Bleedin' blood, sweat, and tears on a blue collar shirt
Bring home the bacon, fry it
a Prius
And by which, I mean he locked up at home
With a anklet recommend by the judge
He really based 'cause he
Can't leave his house
That my black
seats please
I know exactly where you're goin', I can see it on your face
I know how to get there
And I give you my word that I get you there safe
I
from down home.
This young man has never been north before.
I want you to listen to me, I got something to tell
You.
He heard about Chicago.
He
Niggas got a tracking device on your car
They know where the fuck you
Been goin' all week
You left two birds at your grandma house
There's niggas ready
underground massacre terror Seize the streets Feel my heat (WHOOO!) The N9ne amira Killa Got me goin Like Donald Owens The cannabis Got me deep like the abyss
the rips in 'em
Gen 5 Glocks, extended clips
Shit'll get ignant
"Rio, why your pop look like that?"
It's a six in it don't be steppin' 'round my
Kitchen by
Owens
Hell I'm on this nigga
You better hold your ground
If you a straw house
Then the fours will blow you down and
It's back to the home town, yes!
goin' up
Day-by day, every hour, we out this world
Fly high to the sky
The price is getting high
Please, baby girl, come take my
Hand, we'll go far, you
It's like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder how I keep from goin' under
Broken glass everywhere
People pissin' on the stairs, you know they
on that forehead
Woof, woof, woff mother fucker now your left in red
Your runnin' around with a string of chicks
Now nigga you don't want to see me
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