goodie mob
still standing
Leavin the cut in a rage Loadin up my mac, goin to my crib, to get my 12 gauge One of my boys just got shot, huh Fuckin around, in that million dollar spot A educated brother Didn't have no money for college he was taught the street knowledge Part of the plan To keep us fightin in the street instead of becomin a strong black man Every two weeks I see sam Pitchin out my check with no respect but I still don't give a damn Becaause I gotta make my dough My kill, rocked down, til I started seein cash flow Everything happens for a reason, choose the season To commit the perfect treason Who brought me to the land, of unfree man To move about and catch trout, by the dozens Even had my cousin locked down, at the feet shackled A one-way seat, to milledgeville Nigga this real, how can you kill another When it's your brother? Still standing I never thought about, talked about what I did Just experimented life as a young gump Them days long gone, school bells done rung no mo' Spendin hours at the house in my favorite chair Slow mo', custom funk fingerprinted to carry a hucklebuck Feelin stuck with the art that my skin carries, scary If I ever had to plot again, needin my stick Gidgets to pidgits, moves to philly and the crew? Nothin else to prove, fold a plot like chrome Salt lick teddy bears in the college student's room Speed, gipp got that too Watch that dude, inspect that fool, still standing Unscathed, cause this is pain This for soldiers to feel Mc's, are running out of things to say Radio stations are running out of songs to play Still standing, unscathed, cause of pain This for soldiers to feel Mc's, are running out of things to say Radio stations are running out of songs to play On the sick side, of south central 33rd avenue, block 600 Workers have wash and car details The ese's got the fresh chevrolet's for sale Twenty g's or better, the whole neighborhood tanked up What? On the fortress walls, there is no letters Buddha say, the bloods are strictly outnumbered They beseiged, on the beats, goodie mo-b, run the creeps Y'all can have the streets, asphault caught many suckers Slippin on wet floors, we puttin out the signs On krokers, c-i, t-y, such a pity Bein suckled dry, like a newborn On his momma's titty before I retired I hit twenty True to cellulite with big ?Room pesquite? On the porch Poundin, like cartoon ennis, old school efforts Through the sunday down, crenshaw sparkin Zoned out, off the ink, for life Goin through time and metal detectors, I can't take my weapon And I can't be no dope dealer Cause they be done put a hit out on a nigga, plus I can't keep up With them keys, locked in the fo'-do' Backseat drivers havin out-of-body experiences Wakin up, somewhere else still standing