Many muthafuckas didn't make it Other niggas locced up cuz they couldn't take it The ghetto got it's claws in my back tryin' to keep a nigga down I'm cryin' out for help, but help ain't nowhere to be found So what can I do? Pursue other avenues to get revenues Tryin' not to be the next boy on the Channel 3 ten o' clock news Facin' interrogation, fuck an explaination It's time for declarations with exclaimations I'm sick and tired of muthafuckas in my business All up in my mix like sugary Kool-Aid worried about who I paid And who I didn't, I'm tired of spittin' happy raps I'm ready for representin' My fifty caliber split nappy caps It's gettin' hard to be a G, P.D. wanna see me rot In the penetenairy doin' centuries OH MY GOD! What do I do? Where can I go? What can I say? I'm in the Land, of the Lost, with no escape
Chorus:
Stuck in a whirlpool gettin' drug down We was four deep but I'm the only one now How long will I last before I fall off? Runnin', for my life, in the land of the lost Stuck in a whirlpool gettin' drug down We was four deep but I'm the only one now How long will I last before I fall off? Runnin', for my life, in the land of the lost
Second Verse:
Christmas missed us again Poppa robbed 7-11 so now he sittin' in the pen Ain't no presents up under the tree for me No toys to enjoy, cuz Mama's unemployed Your boy had to face reality at an early age StepDad beatin' on Mama cuz he had a bad day The drama was thicker than Hill Street Blues Wanted to get a .22 and buck him, so you can see it on the news Now my shoes was holey, pants was old Birthdays was fucked up, all I got was clothes A lil' Bebe kid, young Pro-Wing sporter boy Wearin' turtlenecks, and thick-ass corduroys Never got along in Junior High, got bagged on, beat down Hoes laughed at me But I tried to be cool, I tried to fit in But then I said "Fuck it!" And started comin' to school with a Mack-10 Got a nigga for his Nikes and his Starter coat I got another for his bike, got another for his loccs Robbed the same 7-11 as Poppa I went and bought a coat down, and some khaki suits, now I'm proper Blocc ah-, filliated at only fourteen I'm doin' what I want and can't nobody say a thing And it seems like I'm out of control I don't know where I'm headed, the Land of the Lost got my soul
Chorus
Third Verse:
My Mama said there would be days like these The Ghetto on my back beatin' me down to my knees Disease, infected Children, neglected Everywhere I look, I don't see nothin' but crooks I rejected, the knowledge that my Mama tried to give I told her "It's my life and I'm the one that's gotta live" Mistaken prone, thinkin' I'm grown, doin' whatever I wanna Nigga's on his own, all alone, no one in my corner I got a job at Dairy Queen servin' double burgers Moonlightin' as a Bloccer servin' double murders My first check was only fifty bucks So fuck Dairy Queen, I got back on my the scene And stacked some real green But opportunies is limited, it's either sell drugs or fast food And you know which one I choose Cuz it's win, lose, or draw, in sickness, in health It's [1.5 second pause] represent the turf Cuz don't nobody else give a fuck The only love I ever felt, came from the homies and myself I want wealth, and power, no matter what the cost That's all that's on my mind, in the Land, of the Lost
Chorus
Stuck in the whirlpool....Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
