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Goodie Mob

Dead Homies

  hip-hop  rap  dirty south  hip hop  atlanta
714 3 часа назад

Текст песни Goodie Mob - Dead Homies

Goodie Mob - Dead Homies слова песни

Ha haYeahWhat`s happening worldThis is for all my homeboys who didn`t get to see a new yearyeah, yo[Chorus] X 2This for my homeboys dead and goneOff in the bushes, we pour out liquor, and roll up swisher smoke[Big Gipp]The hood has changed since you left, manI see your mom and dad got a new jagLittle Jason work at Papa John`s, saw your other brother KellyIn the basement at Killer Bee`s houseTuesday night fights, ESPN, Sportcenter, big screenYou know how these Eastpoint vets doCan you recall riding bicycles in the trails behindKrissy Collins dropping Huffys like BMX`sYour first car was a Honda, my first car was a rabbitCut parties with a tall can or somethingOff in the 800 Ol` E, man, that old girlShe always fell, drunk off the pink champellYeah, reminiscing going through adolescence with youHoping that these words get to you in good spiritYour partna Gipp won`t forget you, my little brotherWent to prison last week, since he been in we barely speak[Chorus] X 4[Khujo]Rest in peace, to all the brothersAnd sisters who didn`t make it to see, a struggleIn the flesh, my folk thought I`m in the carcusI don`t worship the sun no more, I follow David CarreshSo I`m living right, the tears of many with aSheet pulled over my fucking head, I`m hanging in thereLike a wasp nest, meanwhile niggaz is quiting on meFalling victum to stressI`m filling it with your diction homie,but that don`tTake away from my spirit and my mind, one timeFor my homie Barat, and my homie QuentinAnd my shawty Felicia, and my partna FloppyI`m still living for you, I`m still swinging on a niggaStill pulling on a flicker flicker, as I inhale the smokeWith my kinfolk, G-double O-D-I-EM-O-B for L-I-F-E[Chorus] X 4[T-Mo]You want this gold clean and shiningDon`t need to remind me about the divine, he polishesAnd demolish his competitors, who was the editorTo bad mouth these boys that bred in the SouthWhere chicken`s fried on the daily, and rebel flags flyI have no love for confederate sons but gunsAnd no hogs` good for me, people like my typeTo spark the spiritual fight with the devil off tonightWhen he`s white, at anytime, and any rhymeWith substance is looked at as racistWhen good ol` boys is still doing hangingsAnd Mississippi having no pity on my color skinNot having a choice from the begin, little brothersLike me to pose a physical threat, but checkLet me grab a hold of my black steelAnd I`ll show all y`all who`s real c`mon[Chorus] X 4

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