did they fly him to NC to catch that crack charge?
Remember back in the days, when nikkaz had waves
Gazelle shades and corn braids
Pitchin' pennies, honies had the high top jellies
Shootin' Skelly, motherfukkers was all friendly
Loungin' at the barbecues, drinkin' brews
With the neighborhood crews, hangin' on the avenues
Turn your pagers to nineteen ninety three
nikkaz is gettin' smoked G, believe me
Talk slick, you get your neck slit quick
'Cause real street nikkaz ain't havin' that shyt
Totin' techs for rep, smokin' blunts in the project
Hallways, shootin' dice all day
Wait for nikkaz to step up on some fightin' shyt
We get hype and shyt and start liftin' shyt
So step away with your fist fight ways
Motherfukker, this ain't back in the days
But you don't hear me though
No more cocoa leave io, one two three
One two three, all of this to me is a mystery
I hear you motherfukkers talk about it
But I stay seein' bodies with the motherfukkin' chalk around it
And I'm down with the shyt too
For the stupid motherfukkers wanna try to use Kung-Fu
Instead of a Mac-10 he tried scrappin'
Slugs in his back and that's what the fukk happens
When you sleep on the street
Little motherfukkers with heat want
To leave a nikka six feet deep
And we comin' to the wake
To make sure the cryin' and commotion
Ain't a motherfukkin' fake
Back in the days, our parents used to take care of us
Look at 'em now, they even fukkin' scared of us
Callin' the city for help because they can't maintain
Damn, shyt done changed
If I wasn't in the rap game
I'd probably have a ki knee deep in the crack game
Because the streets is a short stop
Either you're slingin' crack rock or you got a wicked jump shot
shyt, it's hard being young from the slums
Eatin' five cent gums, not knowin' where your meals comin' from
And now the shyt's gettin' crazier and major
Kids younger than me, they got the Sky grand Pagers
Goin' outta town, blowin' up
Six months later all the dead bodies showin' up
It make me wanna grab the nine and the shottie
But I gotta go identify the body
Damn, what happened to the summertime cookouts?
Every time I turn around, a nikka gettin' took out
shyt, my momma got cancer in her breast
Don't ask me why I'm motherfukkin' stressed, things done changed
Yet they name streets and have holidays for white men who were thieves and murderers.
