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Текст песни Black Sheep - Non-Fiction

Black Sheep - Non-Fiction слова песни

It`s the brown child, better version of the storySees Conji, a sister, mother played by ToriIn Astoria, kid named Tiki took the cakeThe greens and the steak and the potatoes and the plateNever a dummy, rejections are funnyFirst years of my life I thought that food stamps were moneySo by ten I was the mess, got a men and then I had friendSo now I`m snatching pocket books with Sean Wilkinson‘Get that money, lil nigga` that`s what they told meI never sweated props cause like my pops they couldn`t hold meUntil he found shorty`s got it going on, rolling onWho told? Damn, bendecion..The Bland man, and my pop don`t give a damnThe day I played with matches, took the stove to my handHot temperature! He told me the players` versionThe ego in submersion for the end of week excursionUntil I`m back, back on the sceneLike a ball on the green, giving strokes with my teamAnd despite the commentary pop told me, I`m lowlyAnd moms change-bank can`t hold me, soShe don`t scold me, she just grabs the beltKnuckle the buckle, tells me all about the pain she feltAt the precinct when a pre-teen was spotted at the sceneCame up with the green, not a cop could intervene[Mother]Listen here, you little motherfuckerYou ain`t going to fuck with meGot me coming to this damn precinctDammit, I`m a kick your motherfucking assShit! You ain`t going to drive me crazyNow, happens Tori met Tom not too long agoHe was a nigga,, yo, he said he had the flow thoughHe loved a bro, I know I didn`t see you growTo a TV show cause the nigga said we all could goSo I`m up and out of the ghetto, son of a gold minerCity-slicking Carolinian standing out like Ming chinaA golden bull at heart though I moved aroundThe balls bounced to the bottom, settled at a small town‘Hey, boy! What`s your name?!` First day, first fightI`m out of New York and, boy, it don`t sit right if you`re whiteLight were my steps from thereDid my dirt on the low, a Southern town nightmareCause the next year it was me and Ef on the furloughWe were the only Queens kids but there were other boroughsWith Rockwell, D-Ski, Ron Duke and FreddieNew York was represented like we danced for Rock SteadyStan had tables and mics, every brother niceNot only could we rip and rhyme but backspin and sliceWith Paris and Foxy and Christina P`s bustYou know them loud, raunchy, trouble-making niggas? That was usA menace yet still I played tennis, ain`t that cruddyAdvanced with the Reeboks, they called them ‘cut buddies`I hung with one, only one younger brotherShorty Doo-Wop could cut and scratch up any otherBigger than his size, was barely five feetIn ‘83 broke beats that today rock streetsWith no one to grade it, still never debatedSome saw and hated but they never contemplatedIt was the wild child with foul styles, pal but not foulA dis was never okay unless it came before corralPals of mine, peoples though were downI graduate next week and, yo, next week I`m NY boundSeven days from that one I`m leaving love that weighs a tonI`m going to miss you niggas, yo, that rapping shit was crazy funBut I`m leaving on the next busI`ve got your numbers and we`ll keep in touch, I trustGliding, riding back to my domainFor love and money, fuck fame, my life will never be the sameAs the next man`s words, can you dig it?I say I got a scheme, a-yo, I gots you figured[Corner]Yo, wassup, wassup. Is money out here?Yo, I just got a call from that nigga TikiRemember that nigga Tiki?He on his way from down SouthMy real pops was a pusher, when we left he had a sectionSo I keep it in the family, or at least I make connectionWith the prime figures for affiliated supportIn my purchase of cargo in the import and exportFlushing, Queens: back when junkies was the fiendsMy childhood friends held buddha, had babies in dreamsI took pops off my shit list cause he had the fitnessTo help Tiki get his, what the fuck, pop? Jehovah witnessWhat the fuck, pop? What`s with the fizz-plopI`m like, I can`t put him down but the shit don`t stopWorked at a law firm, for lack of fearI wrote a resume, spending words like a millionaire>From there to the bank, see the bank`s down the blockSo now I`m close to home, I clock, I plotWith Popote, he`s my cousin and a wily oneThough the kid was younger, quick like thunderWith the heart to put you under

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