They out here wildin' in these streets
|
They out here stylin' in these streets
|
They out here lootin' and shootin'
|
And black profilin' in these streets
|
They out here dealin' in these streets
|
They out here stealin' in these streets
|
They out here illin' and killin'
|
They hurt yo' feelings in these streets
|
Boy, I tell you these streets
|
Ain’t no joke
|
You need to stay up out of 'em
|
Before you get smoked
|
You lookin' like food
|
To a hungry nigga, broke
|
Every hood in America
|
Filled with cutthroats
|
Police scanners tune
|
Into the murder that I wrote
|
Gave 'em cement shoes
|
And then I tossed 'em off a boat
|
Make sure all the bubbles disappeared
|
He didn’t float
|
Left my calling card for the Coast Guard
|
A suicide note
|
Sometimes these lil' rappers
|
Need to shut they fuckin' mouths
|
Don’t care if you from the East or West
|
Or North or South
|
Where I’m from they bring it to yo'
|
Doorstep at your house
|
What you talkin' 'bout
|
Can’t play no football in no blouse
|
I be runnin' plays like the Quarterback Sneak
|
I call you 7 Days 'cause your rap style weak
|
Freak, hit the Cuervo
|
And she just got geeked
|
Did a dance on the police
|
Then I left 'em in the streets
|
They out here wildin' in these streets
|
They out here stylin' in these streets
|
They out here lootin' and shootin'
|
And black profilin' in these streets
|
They out here dealin' in these streets
|
They out here stealin' in these streets
|
They out here illin' and killin'
|
They hurt yo' feelings in these streets
|
Boy, I tell ya that you just won’t last
|
Your mouth gonna write a check that yo' ass can’t cash
|
All the shit you did, gon' come back from the past
|
And when they catch up with you
|
You know they gon' whoop yo' ass
|
Consequences, repercussions
|
For them guns that was bustin'
|
And now the police comin' 'round
|
Askin' all them questions
|
Ain’t nobody tell 'em nothin'
|
They don’t want to admit it
|
Street justice is upon him
|
And they want you to get it
|
They had motive before they did it
|
Premeditated, committed murder
|
And they never, ever once reconsidered
|
Never heard of such a thing
|
You get yourself crowned, tryin' to be the king
|
Of this rap underground
|
Real bad boys move in silence
|
Don’t make a sound
|
Been down
|
We the reason fake dudes don’t come around
|
Four pound, catch you outta bounds
|
Another body found
|
Chopped 'em up in pieces
|
And fed 'em to the hounds
|
They out here wildin' in these streets
|
They out here stylin' in these streets
|
They out here lootin' and shootin'
|
And black profilin' in these streets
|
They out here dealin' in these streets
|
They out here stealin' in these streets
|
They out here illin' and killin'
|
They hurt yo' feelings in these streets
|
Boy, would you boss up
|
These niggas is mustard, man
|
They need to catch up
|
Put ya hands in the air
|
And throw ya sets up
|
If I ever make it rain
|
Ya might get wet up
|
I don’t walk around a criminal
|
Or fakin' I’m a villain
|
I’m known around the globe
|
For simply makin' a killin'
|
Man you all up in yo' feelings
|
Money spending when it’s old
|
And I’m all up in the game
|
Even if the weather’s cold
|
And they still don’t know my name
|
But insane is how I roll
|
Man I’ll blow yo' fuckin' brains
|
On the floor and snatch yo' soul
|
They out here wildin' in these streets
|
They out here stylin' in these streets
|
They out here lootin' and shootin'
|
And black profilin' in these streets
|
They out here dealin' in these streets
|
They out here stealin' in these streets
|
They out here illin' and killin'
|
They hurt yo' feelings in these streets |