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JIM JONES

My Diary (feat. Denise Weeks)

  rap  hip-hop  dipset  east coast rap  hip hop
443 3 часа назад

Текст песни JIM JONES - My Diary (feat. Denise Weeks)

JIM JONES - My Diary (feat. Denise Weeks) слова песни



Текст песни JIM JONES - My Diary (feat. Denise Weeks)




Pardon the Syzzrup...[Jim Jones]Now we try cornersOld folks try and warn usThe cops try and swarm usBlocks hot like saunas( )Well fuck it I'ma risk itGot a bunt nigga twist itImma get drunk with my biscuit5 cent cup, take a sip kidImma product of the p-jectsMy teachers always told me that I'd prolly be a rejectI came up by my lonely now I'm a product of that D-SetTwo twelvin with my homie, he caught a homy of that d-wreckHe said it had him zonin' left the body in bulding three stepsThe project now on fire every where you see the detectsHis high is coming down cause now he's nervous smokin bogeysAnd now he findin out that fuckin murder was his co-DAnd this the shit that happens all too often up in HarlemNo shit you smell a rat you better off him whats the problemIn this business sellin crack we cook that raw shit up to hard shitAnd tell my fellas that and to my coffin steady mobbin' to my coffinsteady mobbin'[Chorus: Denise Weeks]Take a look into my eyes and you'll see all the pain the ghetto bringsTake a journey through my soul and letsroll through the streets of realityThey tell me slow down I'm livin' life fast See they don't all wannaride with meI know it ain't right but this is my lifeIt's just a piece of my diary yeah[Jim Jones]Now, we ran wreckless, no grown-ups to guide usSo it's the man what you expect, I've grown-up to violenceI had my eye up on the pushers, the ones that stay flyFiends got high off the suga, you know that ain't riiightThat sweet cane, some got buried to the street gameMy niggaz only worried bout the jewelry and the street fameAnd what the bitches thought of them, it's all about the moneyWell shit I cop some Porsche or trucks'Member I was hungry, I was whippin in the CorsicaHoopty muthafucka, hoppin the double four'sMy pants droopy muthafuckasAnd pardon my grammar, my nana died '95So I done left my heart wit my grandmaI hid outside and played the park wit the hammerAnd I'm watchin for the narcs, they movin cars with antennasThug and respect, for all my goons behind bars in the slammasTo my G's on rikers, to all my three time lifers[Chorus][Bridge - 2X]This is my life we die young cause we livin fastSo I'ma let you read my diary I'ma let you read my dairy[Jim Jones]Now lets ride (to where), to Harlem, the WestsideI show you blocks and murals, dawg where some of the best died(Like who...like who?) Like Porter and themI heard Po put the order on him, now that's more than a friend!But he stitched of course, now let's talk about Fritz the bossAnd he got rich off snort, they said 500 bricks was broughtSo in hindsight, it's a shorty who couldn't get a gist of his thoughtBut if you grind right wit the snorpy, a whip could be boughtNow think about po-9, if it caught me, how it get you in courtBut now the feds, they still tailin me, DA think he nailin meI had to turn in the goons come and post the bail for meStill in the Byrd Gang myself, you say Byrd Gang is wealthAnd all the liquor stores, man the Syzzurp on the shelfI rose from the dump you see, now it's Dipset, Byrd Gang the company[Chorus][Bridge 2X]




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