| Lyrics: | feat. Solomon Childs
[Intro: Solomon Childs]
Yeah, word...
Godfather shit... you
know?
Take your mind off it (yeah, what?)
[Solomon Childs]
My projects, this the
funeral homes and Laundromats
Hall of fame, for niggas who hit off gats
Late comer, ain't
turned ghetto since fourteen
In the hood it's only money that the drop bring
Solomon King,
and when the toast ring
You know I know, you yellow back niggas'll run
Talkin' shit, is like
walkin' wet on the third rail
My fault for hurtin' ya'll sales
About to party like I'm Bobby
Rail
Cop grams off a Dominican in the well
Fifth borough, marquise, livin' New York soap
operas
I see more drug dealers than doctors
Neglect, hold a ratchet, but to Allah I'm still
innocent
I keep correspondin', wit thugs who needs witnesses
Uncle Wise, 21st
century
[Chorus 2X: Solomon Childs]
Ghetto celebrities, penitentiary bars
Jealousy,
guns, jigga spot number runs
Criminals and deceased stars
Look around you, son, who wouldn't
get high
[Remedy]
We make music, til the wee hours of morn'
These grays in my beard
grow as time goes on
Nothin' like the feeling, when you're hearin' our song
The best things
in life just don't last long
Can't believe it, even little Barbara's gone
Wifey cries
everyday, but tries to be strong
We all do things we no is dead wrong
Can't get it where you
fit in, if you don't belong
Wait for no man, make moves for delf
You can't understand, I
write songs for self
Seen misery and company, along with wealth
The real jewel is happiness
and good health
Know cats that had money and now they're dead broke
Straight up clean kids,
who now smoke coke
Smo |
