me tonight CHORUS: Yeah, we'll feel alright, my pretty baby We'll forget every pain in our souls A pleasing cheat that will end tomorrow Then we'll be back on our own
Feels good to be back on the streets Cause I know they got love for me, nuttin but love *chorus* When I was young I used to want to be a dealer see
get our shit together and move it along Had dreams of being Big niggas, Jig niggas Drivin the hottest cars, movin out with our moms and I'm [Chorus: Gwen Dickey] Wishing on
stories! [Krayzie Bone] I knew this nigga that used to be large on the boulevard This nigga was ballin y'all, big house driveway full of cars This nigga
hustle, cuz the family was large No fancy cars, no shrimp scampi or caviar Just a cold plate of agony, mixed with a harsh reality Fuck a donation, we started our own
here snitchin We was one step away from takin this crack money and recyclin it through the ghettoes and buildin back up our own hoods Now all you niggaz start snitchin on
by his mercy Rapverse1 (Waqas) U know I can recall when pops left home He used to write us twice a year We didn't have phone I grew up on my own
on, you gotta rock rock on [somebody, help meeeeee!] Rock rock on, you gotta rock rock on [You gotta rock on] Rock rock on, you gotta rock rock on Rock
s a very reason why the brothers slang rocks My mutha wants to know why our son sells crack I tell her [?] to put clothes on my back And I don't give
some real thug stories I knew this nigga that used to be large on the boulevard This nigga was ballin' y'all, big house driveway full of cars This nigga
rock on, you gotta rock rock on You gotta rock onrock rock on, you gotta rock rock on Rock rock on, you gotta rock rock on Rock rock on, you gotta rock
, all these niggaz out here snitchin' We was one step away from takin' this crack money And recyclin' it through the ghettos and buildin' back up our own hoods Now all you niggaz start snitchin' on
'm tryin to take em where they ain't been Somethin out they price range Ain't in they budget, you know they can't spend Where we at, in a league of our own
million dollar cars It's slavery, hard labor, catch the feel Redneck on the hearse while you walk, it's real With a shotgun, burnin' at the back of your
nothing but my chil'ren One shot, they disappearin' It's ill when MC's used to be on cruddy shit Took home, Ready to Die, listened, studied shit Now they on
meant me, to push a Bentley Me and Sean Combs takin broads home On the phone with the chip, these Cristal chips bought to make our own porno flicks, my
Heh, y'all remember back in the days When niggaz used to get they ass whooped for snakin cars And had to go strip your own switch off the tree These are
you. See, what I have to say is so very important to our relationship. Why is it that every time we go out on the town, we get around our friends? Man
