[Talking:] The feeling of being 12 years old and waking up in the middle of the night and somebody in yo room. Yo heart starts beating so fast you can hear it pumping. The veins in yo temple pulsate as you stare at the intruder. Then after a few minutes you realize he ain't moving. So finally you let 'em hang and turn on the light and the killer turns into yo coat throwed over the chair.
The feeling of sitting at the red light early in the morning and two or three motherfuckers cross the street. Yo senses heighten, reflexes sharpen vision's enhanced adrenaline flows as they rush across the street you leave the print from the heater grip in yo palm then yo heart rate and breathing drag back to normal as you realize these niggas just goin' to the store.
Many of us mistake Phobia for true fear. Whereas fear is a gift from God to be used for self-preservation. Phobia are obstacles strategically placed in society by opposers of positive existence. Through stereotyping, innuendo, false documentation, and glorification they'll turn your fear switch to a permanent on. We can change this by changing the small truth within' the lie. Death is a small price to pay for respect. Death is a small price to pay for respect. You know who it is. You know what it is. Peace out.
[Verse 1: Andre]
In these troublin' times a nigga like me be thinkin' of rhymes that makes my quarters nickels plus my pennies and my dimes stack Don't be lookin' for trouble it be finding me Try turning the other cheek I understand but never mind that Yes Sir guess the light is getting dim at the end of the tunnel tried to hit me for my rims I never thought thirty spokes could attract too much attention I gotta protect my own therefore I'm heated just like a kitchen full of pots and pan Glocks in hand Shots rung out like ringin' the bells and then that sucker nigga ran Damn, I never thought that it would come to this conclusion the folks that throwed us on them boats should be the one's I'm losin' but naw we don't see it that way in '94 this is the real no time for play play betta believe the playas on the loot need to get they head screwed on tight when it really get down to the nitty grit who gone fight pipe down 'cause ain't no better time to crank it up than right now we gots to see rump crum down here and I don't hear nobody disagreein' Orga-no-i-z-e-Mr. D.J. and me and Big Boi
[Chorus]
So don't spend yo whole life livin' it for the white You got a 9 to 5 and now you choose to live it right You takin' yo ass to the Army 'cause you scared of Revolution I'm writing everyday to stop that brain pollution I got a baby on the way that stress is in my chest I'm 18 years of age and black so I can picture less I'm smokin' and drinkin' e'ryday So play your fuckin' job educated and black I will resort to rob
[Verse 2: Big Boi]
See why in the muthafuck do niggas be acting up Do they want me to grab my shit and lettin' that pistol go ruck See I be gettin' stuck and stuff havin' to knock a nigga out about my clout That's not what it's about see yes indeed I got that weed like Daddy Q be havin' them ounces That nigga the B-I-G be chokin' 'em out and then I bounces I got that lyrical flow to make a hoe pull up her skirt I drunk that herk & jerk boi thinkin' of future things to work on I got my fuck on and then I took my clothes off Washed my nuts up in the sink and then I got more nuts off Cough it's time to be out see bein' a pimp is bein' a pimp I'm dirtier than the shit on the back of a shrimp Now ain't that foul the way a nigga can spit that style My nigga I spit it I did it Now suckas need to quit it 'Cause it's real
[Chorus]
[Verse 3: Big Boi]
Well it's that nigga that be wearing Nautica V-necks and Polo sweats I got some food up in yo thoughts and that cess off in yo chest See livin' up in the dungeon where we stayed in '93 see that nigga the B-I-G B-O-I that be me and when we rock it Niggas be jocking just like ? you snitch I fucked yo bitch See and my niggas G'd that hoe on the South side of Camelton Road No slippin' in this pimpin' she was just a horny toad See I'm a mystery like the killing of Michael Jordan's father Was steadily packin' the hoes when I worked at Foot Locker I'm gettin' higher than learning smokin' 'em up and then burning East Point is on the map and now my clothes is hurtin'
[Andre:]
Now shit done got boring ass molin' when excess closed down but niggaz kept sewin' shearin' stirrin' bein' the pharm assistant that missed of the folks but some people tend to joke about this but it's really dead spirits You can bet my lyrics now ya wonder why that we done stopped and got serious Wantin' to know where I'm from and where I need to be Now that I know comfortable living give me meat Can I get back ya wonder why we split back lure us into pitch black dark but I sit back and spark another one to leave ya discombobulated in that dust livin' in a world where in nobody do you trust Then hush never became a major trade but us in major trouble 'cause we made a too many mistakes off in the past Thinkin' you could make it this world and now we laugh 'cause it's all faults [Chorus starts here] either way ya go ya gotta pay the cost of the mic wind
[Chorus repeat] [last line is changed to:] I'm hangin' with the G-O-O-D-I-E Mob Nigga yeah
Takin' you a li'l higher knowwhatI'msayin' when you learnin' when you burnin' up that smoke so you can choke on my quotes and get my * down yo throat you just don't understand youknowwhatI'msayin' Organized Noize for '95 Bitch!Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
