Lyrics:
How many brothers fell victim to the streets?
Rest in peace, young nigga, there's a heaven for a G
Be a lie if I told you that I never thought
years of generational damage, done
By a race, we couldn't run
In a race we couldn't win
With the world's fastest men
And laws based on skin
It's called
years of generational damage, done
By a race, we couldn't run
In a race we couldn't win
With the world's fastest men
and laws based on skin
It's called
black demeanor
Reminiscing on my past, still dreaming about that Beamer
I never was that kid in the streets gripping on Nina's
And still I was that (?)
disrespect him or somethin', I was tryna disrespect y'all
'Cause that's what I'm doin' (gun-cocking) from here on in
My new name from now on, don't even call
base
And I'm based
On a true story
My life a true story
Authored by His story story
The old me is history story story
That work ethic
Creating epic work
to no good
We flip flop and serve hoes like flap jacks
(Snoop: But we don't love them hoes) Bitch, and it's like that
This is what you look for in a ho
chain on
I don't care what they say
I put that ring on
Check out how these chicks be matchin' outfits made by VLONE
This ain't no cheap love, these
tellin' me don't run the streets
So tell me am I wrong?
For tryin' to communicate through a song
I'm up early in the mornin', by sunrise I'll be gone
in a box
And that's light, that's light
But light like to lick twat a lot so that's right
That's what y'all call street?
No tales from the Crip this
learn (I'm high)
I use my Colt 45 to shoot down your Olde English
By the time that I'm finished I peel the caps off six Guinness
Skwad Training helps
while my loved ones was fighting the continuous war back in the city
I was entering a new one
A war that was based on apartheid and discrimination
Made
Main street sixteen, there's still same old faces, we left here yesterday
A guy in a corner table is threatening us with lawsuit
He's offended by song we
son?
(Yeah man, I was out on the street
These guys came on by in this, tch, car man playin some beat)
You ain't heard nuttin' this funky nigga, how
This a warrior song
We two-stepping till the warrior's drawn
The flow rolls of this warrior's tongue
Ain't none slicker since the notorious one
When
and oppressed
By the powers that be
How the hell can you even afford
A house that is cheap
If you miss only a paycheck
Then you're out on the street
Now who can
know what classy means
And I know that you are not
Sittin' there in your fast cars
Windows down bad songs blastin' out
Cat calls, but you don't know my
dead
Straight from high street, raised by the o.g.'s
Never slanged keys, but quick to drop them be's
Put 'em in the trunk and that ain't no front
'Cause
in a box
And that's light, that's light
But light like to lick twat a lot so that's right
That's what y'all call street?
No tales from the Crip this
and Neva call her back
Cuz her paper slim but that ass is fat
I might hit the Trick and Neva call her back
Say she heard my song and she think it slap
I
the streets at
This that shit to make the heat clap
From my niggas selling cheap packs
Them niggas keep straps
The Onyx is the kings of that street rap
It is
summons pours
More more more
Deep deep deep
Fitting a jeep In the trunk of these words that I speak
Hear the squeak of the neat freak tweak at the cheap
Probably just like your last boyfriend
I'm not the guy that you can toy with
I'm the circle in a square peg; that rarity that sees your ployed tricks
Wow
hold in the 1950’s when we were already entranced by baseball, bikinis and the boob tube. We invented manned flight, atom bombs, and duct tape before we
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