Uhh
Yo, yo, yo, y'all
Whattup? Whattup?
It's time, man. (Word, it's time?)
Straight up, it's time man.
Aight, set that shit off .
(Set it off then, nigga, set it off)
Broken glass in the hallway, bloodstained floors
Neighbors look at every bag you bring through your doors
Lock the top lock; mama shoulda cuffed me to the radiator
Why not? It might've saved later from my block
New York cops; hookers crawlin' off the stroll, coughin'
Stitches in they head, stinkin', and I dread thinkin' they be snitchin'
But who else could it be shook at these unmarked vans?
Parked in the dark: NARC's, where's your heart?
Hustlers starve; they bust a U-E; I jog
To my building, come out later wearin' camouflage
See the sargeant and the captain strangle men
Niggaz gaspin' for air till they move no more, and just stare
With dead eyes; tired of riots; shit is quiet
Simple-minded fools infiltrate grimy crews
Overcrowded cribs, uncle's home from bids; sister's pregnant
Father's on drugs, mom's is smokin', beds is piss-infested
Had eight partners growin up; eight turned to seven
Seven turned to six niggaz; got two in heaven
Six of us holdin' it, now it's five rollin' thick
The sixth one's parole-flipped; five niggaz went to fo', quick
When he went O.T.; college life; converted into gangbangin'
Four niggaz still hangin', years passed and slang changin'
Three of us now, fourth nigga ain't around
We all thought he was real; he did the snake shit
Fake shit, beat his ass down. Yo, his mouth
Could've got us all wasted; what a fuckin' clown
All I got left in the end is two of my best friends
And we all goin' out, to the death, for these ends.
What?
Writer: MARTIN, CHRISTOPHER E/JONES, NASIR/BARRIER, ERIC
Lyrics © EMI Music Publishing, UNIVERSAL MUSIC-Z TUNES
Yo, yo, yo, y'all
Whattup? Whattup?
It's time, man. (Word, it's time?)
Straight up, it's time man.
Aight, set that shit off .
(Set it off then, nigga, set it off)
Broken glass in the hallway, bloodstained floors
Neighbors look at every bag you bring through your doors
Lock the top lock; mama shoulda cuffed me to the radiator
Why not? It might've saved later from my block
New York cops; hookers crawlin' off the stroll, coughin'
Stitches in they head, stinkin', and I dread thinkin' they be snitchin'
But who else could it be shook at these unmarked vans?
Parked in the dark: NARC's, where's your heart?
Hustlers starve; they bust a U-E; I jog
To my building, come out later wearin' camouflage
See the sargeant and the captain strangle men
Niggaz gaspin' for air till they move no more, and just stare
With dead eyes; tired of riots; shit is quiet
Simple-minded fools infiltrate grimy crews
Overcrowded cribs, uncle's home from bids; sister's pregnant
Father's on drugs, mom's is smokin', beds is piss-infested
Had eight partners growin up; eight turned to seven
Seven turned to six niggaz; got two in heaven
Six of us holdin' it, now it's five rollin' thick
The sixth one's parole-flipped; five niggaz went to fo', quick
When he went O.T.; college life; converted into gangbangin'
Four niggaz still hangin', years passed and slang changin'
Three of us now, fourth nigga ain't around
We all thought he was real; he did the snake shit
Fake shit, beat his ass down. Yo, his mouth
Could've got us all wasted; what a fuckin' clown
All I got left in the end is two of my best friends
And we all goin' out, to the death, for these ends.
What?
Writer: MARTIN, CHRISTOPHER E/JONES, NASIR/BARRIER, ERIC
Lyrics © EMI Music Publishing, UNIVERSAL MUSIC-Z TUNES
