Coolio

On My Way To Harlem

  rap  hip-hop  hip hop  90s  west coast rap
834 3 часа назад

Текст песни Coolio - On My Way To Harlem

Coolio - On My Way To Harlem слова песни

Verse 1:I know a place where the trees don`t growJust another place where niggaz live lowI know a place where life is fucked upMake a wrong move and your ass get stuck upTime ain`t nothin but a frame of mindAnd life is like a mountain or a steep ass climbI`ve been lookin for a place to leaveThe only free place is inside of meSo let`s take a trip, and you don`t need a gripBut you better be equipped cause it might be some shitAfrican-American, nothin but a niggaHad our fingers on the trigger, but I pulled mine quickerI know a place where there ain`t no calm andYou better stay away if you`re soft like CharminSouth Central, Los Angeles, Watts, and ComptonA nigga on the west coast on his way to HarlemVerse 2:Now it`s time to step into the light (Light)Put up your dukes, there`s gonna be a fight (Fight)And when it`s time to fight, you better fight rightCause if it don`t fight right, out goes the lightTake a close look at what I`m freakin onNiggaz think I`m tweekin, but I`m speakin onSubject matter, dataInformation that I gatherThrough my travelsCause the hardest of the hard, hit hardcore killerCan`t stop the slug of a nine millimeterEverybody thinks they know, but they know notIf they haven`t caught a cap on the block *gunshot*So shine up your boots and pick up the piecesGrab a fresh pair of khakis with the sharp ass creasesRing the alarm, here comes the stormI got a firearm on my way to HarlemVerse 3:I know a place where the sun don`t shineEverybody is a victim of neighborhood crimeI know a place where niggaz walk the lineOne false step and they must do timeSince I`m in the same boat I must stay afloatAnd sing every noteFrom the quotes that they wroteSo, I look into the past and walk the path of the greatsSo I wont make the same mistakes that sealed my ancestors fatesIf I had to be a slave I`d rather be in my graveIf I get in how many lives could I save?One, two, three, a hundred, a thousandMy heart is poundin, the devil keeps soundinBut he don`t want my money, he wants my soulSo I reach like a tree, and like a weed I growMy stomach is full, but my mind is starvinRollin in a g ride on my way to Harlem

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