Poison Pen - Inner City Hoodlum

Текст песни

Looking at the city, we’re all in trouble again
With no sense of direction ‘til you gave my heart a home
Brothers got bills to pay
So it don’t matter who’s getting drilled or slayed
Whoever get in my way, for real, bastard
Must want to play real like Fear Factor
Ain’t got two nickels to rub together
But I’ll make it look good, make it look hood
My Beretta’s for my protection for the most part
I’ll murk something ‘fore it’s close to my heart
Don’t take this kindness for weakness. On a good weekend
We could trade this rhyming for a beating
That’s the ghetto in me speaking
Sunset Park childhood, Bed Stuy living
Think I’m too wild? Good. Pull your breasts out, women
Looking at the city, we’re all in trouble again
With no sense of direction ‘til you gave my heart a home
I’ve never sold crack. Get it through your head
I ain’t never been a pimp. Yo, get a grip
And I don’t smoke weed. It don’t mean
I’m a thug just ‘cause you pussy
We don’t get intimidated easily. I’m not concerned
With what y’all do. It’s simple as that
I’ll go down as a Bed Stuy deity. If you was gangster
Them bullet wounds wouldn’t have been in your back
I live by the hood rules: that’s: respect, honesty, and loyalty
And I’ll brawl like there’s four of me—I win
‘Cause, for one, if I lose, I’ma beat that ass
And, for two, if I lose, I’ma beat that ass
Looking at the city, we’re all in trouble again
With no sense of direction ‘til you gave my heart a home
Donald Goines kept me afloat
Inner city hoodlum, I notice bars
Like Johnny Washington,
Plus I roll with whores on the dirt
No wonder I paint war with words
I’m an N.A. Rock star. Feel us?
Rock a show, rock a crowd
Rock a shorty’s legs like earmuffs
And some are large and stupid
Get to my door, collapse outside
Right where mail, knocked out, my stupor
But I’m safe ‘cause I practiced hood love, junior
Bust a gat, would have my hero and Lucies
And know if you ain’t got it
So I’m good on my block. I feel sorry for intruders
Looking at the city, we’re all in trouble again
With no sense of direction ‘til you gave my heart a home
Molotov Cock, man., Brooklon bullies spitting from Cali, man. Emvees.
, holler at your boy
Looking at the city through Versace shades
Where all the trouble began, with no
Sense of direction. Thinking introspective
Be book-smart, know your weapons
And nice with your hands. Used to slapbox ‘til my nose was all
Bloody and crusty, fighting my mans
Hated our whole situation, played the street all night
Who cancelled your subscription to the magazine called «LIFE»?
Cross my path, baby. You know the rest
Left better, fool, and get your head on too
We make disciples out of y’all in doubt
City slicker, Aurora Borealis mouth
Looking at the city, we’re all in trouble again
With no sense of direction ‘til you gave my heart a home