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Skupina:
SCARFACE
Album:
Balls And My Word
Leto:
2003
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Besedilo pesmi:
<span class="feat">(feat. Z-Ro)</span> <i>[Verse 1]</i> When I was in the sixth grade, these niggas was bitch made They was thinking science, I was thinking get paid I always kept a plan to get doe Like selling the same shit I use to steal from outta stop-n-go I use to run a paper route But that ain't pay me enough, I was still on the bus My momma would always tell me don't you rush to get old But rarely did I listen to the shit I was told I was a ghetto boy long before the rap group existed I use to take my lunch money and pitch it I stayed on suspension, I ain't fuckin' with school Truant officers be chasin' me, I'd give 'em the blues Hit the pipes off of Roomer just to pass the time Shoot the shit and walk to Shamrock, stole me a wine Get smashed and hit the bus stop when school let out Get off at tina house and bust that cot Walk up outta Ridgemont smelling like fish in my pocket Then back to the southside walking home from Watkins I stopped to see the homies off of Huckala street All you game in the front yard bumpin' this beat <i>[Chorus: Z-Ro]</i> Ever since I could remember I been on my grind, All the time Nothing but paper and pussy and the finer things on my mind I had to Shine By any means necessary I had to go out and get it And come back wit it, thug life I was wit it My balls and my word told a nigga that the world was mine That's why I stay on the grind <i>[Verse 2]</i> I remember when the dope game started up, serving the hypes I was seeing more doe than I ever seen in my life I was rocking up eightballs and knowing the shake Kept a thousand in my pocket, twenty more in the safe I had my grandmother guessing how I got that shit 'Cause every other day I had to buy new kicks Older cats steppin' to me as if I was the man Getting telephone calls from my uncle's friends I'm sixteen years old, with game so throwed I was parking niggas frontin' me and fucking they hoes Eventually I moved out, rented a house I'm stretching the dope, cuttin' seventeen from an ounce We cop ya pots fulla spray, I'm moving big weight But that was back in the days, nobody thought about a dope case It's all mapped out, get in get out They giving mutha fuckas ten years for each rock It's fucked ain't it, but I'm lookin' at the picture they done painted They hanging all these niggas who's careers was dope gamin' The crack epidemic had you locked if you was in it And even if you stepped out with bread you couldn't spend it In the beginning niggas had they whole hoods flooded Wit that Antonio Montana disease like "fuck it" And drug wars just another day in the life You fucked over me, I fucked you, done gave me the right <i>[Chorus]</i> <i>[Verse 3]</i> I'm up and down I-10, with a car full of hens Finta check my ends, finta get this Benz Stopped short of my drop spot by red lights flashing I'm dirty, and if he wants to search I'ma blast him I roll the windows down so I can show him my hands Wouldn't you know, the cop done pulled me over my man I got a brand new plan take this shit to the line Stop an Sony's and give it back I'll give you a dime With ten thousand you can go to work for a week Take some time off to think, I'll even throw in a key He stopped at the mo', I gave him the doe Checked in my room then whooped out the scale and the blow There's a knock at the door, I grabbed the four-four It was the homeboy who set me up down on the floor <i>[Chorus]</i>
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